BY 

GEORGE  W.  CALDWELL,  M.  D. 


ILLUSTRATED  WITH 
NUMEROUS  SNAP-SHOT  PHOTOGRAPHS 


PUBLISHED    BY 

G.  W.   CALDWELL,  M.  D. 

POUGHKEEPSIl,   N.   Y. 


COPVRIGHT     1906,    BY 

DR.   GEORGE  W.   CALDWELL. 

All  rights  reserved. 


INTRODUCTION. 

No  excuse  is  offered  for  this  volume  and 
no  apology  is  volunteered.  The  author  did 
the  best  he  could. 

It  is  not  intended  as  a  guide  book  or  a 
romance,  but  merely  as  a  true  account  of  the 
events  of  travel  and  the  points  of  interest  as 
the  ordinary  traveler  sees  them  and  his 
camera  portrays  them,  unhampered  by  the 
dry  detail  of  figures,  and  ungilded  by  fancy. 


2218702 


THK  A.   V.    HAIQHT  COMPANY, 
POUQHKEEPBIC,   H.  V. 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I     Across  the  Continent 9 

II     The  Pacific  Voyage — An  Ingenious  Scheme  12 

III  Japan — First  Impressions 19 

IV  Yokohama — Japan  Awakened 22 

V     Tokio — Odd  Customs — The  Yoshawara.  25 

VI     The    Emperor's  Birthday — Japan  Trium- 
phant   33 

VII     Nikko  and  its  Temples 37 

VIII      Giant  Idols — Miyanoshita,  and  a  Trip  to 

Hell. 45 

IX     Kioto — In  the  Heart  of  Old  Japan 51 

X     Osaka — Japanese-English,    and    the    Kobe 

Roosters 56 

XI     Through  the  Inland  Sea  to  Nagasaki — Say- 

onara  to  Old  Japan 60 

XII     Shanghai,  Old  and  New 65 

XIII  Hong  Kong 73 

XIV  Canton  and  the  Cantonese 76 

XV     The  Flower  Boats— Chinese  Public  Opinion  86 

XVI     The  Temple  of  Honan — How  the  Devils 

are  Imposed  Upon .  92 


6  Contents. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVII  The  Education  of  China 96 

XVIII  Macao,  the  Monte  Carlo  of  the  Eastern 

Sea 1 02 

XIX  Singapore 107 

XX  Penang — Tropical  Fruits i  i  o 

XXI  Arrival  at  Colombo  and  a  Sad  Deception  i  1 4 

XXII  In  and  About  Colombo 120 

XXIII  Kandy,  and  the  Kandy  Tooth 126 

XXIV  Calcutta — The  Indian  Bearer 134 

XXV  Darjeeling  and  the  Himalayas 140 

XXVI  Benares,  the  Sacred  City 149 

XXVII  Lucknow  and  Cawnpore — The   Indian 

Mutiny  ....    163 

XXVIII  Agra  and  the  Fort  of  Akbar 1 69 

XXIX  The  Taj  Mahal 175 

XXX  Futtehpore-Sikree,  The  Deserted  City  .  I  79 

XXXI  Delhi,  the  Delightful 184 

XXXII  A  Nautch  Dance 188 

XXXIII  Jaipur  and  the  Rajputs 193 

XXXIV  A  Trip  to  Amber,  and  an  Elephant  Ride  197 
XXXV  Bombay — The  Caves  of  Elephanta. ...  202 

XXXVI  The  Indian  Ocean  and  the  Red  Sea..  .  206 
XXXVII  How  We  Broke  Into  Egypt— The  Re- 
ward of  Honesty 209 


Contents.  7 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXXVIII     Port  Said  to  Cairo 216 

XXXIX     Cairo  and  the  Mosques — The   Philoso- 
pher Objects  to  Mohammedism ....  219 
XL     Donkey  Boy  Diplomacy — Street  Pictures 

— An  Antique  University 227 

XLI     From  the  Citadel. 234 

XLII     The  Pyramids — The  Philosopher  Makes 

Some  Discoveries 238 

XLIIF     The  Dervishes 242 

XLIV     Memphis — Heliopolis — TheWisdom  of 

the  Egyptians 246 

XLV     Homeward  Bound 250 


CHAPTER  I. 

ACROSS  THE  CONTINENT. 

We  started  westward  in  October.  As  we 
rolled  through  the  beautiful  Mohawk  Valley 
glimpses  from  the  car  window  of  the  sugar 
maples  flaming  with  their  autumn  costumes 
of  red  and  yellow  caused  just  a  little  pang  of 
regret  for  the  glorious  season  we  should  miss. 
Perhaps  in  all  the  world  we  should  see  no 
more  charming  sight  than  that  of  the  wood- 
bine, turned  bronze  and  crimson,  festooning 
the  branches  of  the  cedar  or  the  pine  tree. 
When  Autumn  drapes  her  gay  bunting  on 
the  American  hillsides  all  the  world  should 
pause  and  admire,  but  to  us  who  see  this  car- 
nival of  color  every  year  it  is  so  familiar  that 
its  beauties  are  not  properly  realized.  So 
we  travel,  not  only  to  see  the  wonders  and 
beauties  of  other  countries,  but  to  make  us 
more  appreciative  of  our  own.  Change 
keeps  the  heart  young. 

One  does  not  fully  comprehend  what  a 
country  is  ours  until  he  travels  across  it.  One 
cannot  realize  what  progress  and  possibilities 
are  ours  unless  he  remembers  that  the  country 


to  Oriental  Rambles. 

through  which  he  passes  with  its  grain  fields, 
its  prosperous  farm  houses,  its  villages,  its 
factories  and  its  cities  with  their  teeming 
millions  and  stupendous  commerce  were, 
twenty-five,  fifty  or  seventy-five  years  ago, 
only  barren  plains,  prairies  or  deserts  occupied 
by  wild  beasts  and  savages. 

On  the  Oregon  Short  Line  in  Idaho  there 
is  a  railroad  eating  station  built  of  slabs.  In 
the  yard  was  a  bear  chained  to  a  stake.  A 
few  Indians,  wrapped  in  blankets,  asked  the 
passengers  for  money  and  got  an  assortment 
of  things  including  temperance  lectures,  chew- 
ing tobacco,  profanity  and  cold  stares.  Whis- 
key would  have  pleased  them  better.  The 
noble  red  men  have  fallen  on  grievous  times. 
Over  beyond  the  sand  hills  millions  of  acres 
of  wheat  fields  have  taken  the  place  of  their 
rabbit  pastures.  Artesian  wells,  mammoth 
water  reservoirs  and  canals  are  turning  the 
deserts  into  gardens.  Peach  trees  grow  where 
the  cactus  bristled,  and  alfalfa  flourishes 
where  erstwhile  withered  the  sage  brush  that 
was  not  even  fit  for  goose  stuffing. 

After  the  long,  hot  and  dusty  ride  through 
the  brown  Rocky  Mountain  States,  the 
plunge  into  the  damp,  cool  and  green  coast 
strip  of  Oregon  and  Washington  was  most 


Oregon  and  Washington.  n 

refreshing.  It  is  indeed  another  country. 
The  stately  pines,  the  rushing  waterfalls,  the 
heights  and  depths  are  more  majestic  than 
those  of  the  Adirondacks,  or  any  other  east- 
ern region.  There  is  a  quality  to  the  west- 
ern atmosphere  that  bids  one  breathe,  and 
expand,  and  grow,  grow,  grow.  There  is 
energy  in  the  air.  All  nature  feels  it.  The 
trees  grow  larger  and  taller  than  elsewhere. 
In.  October,  in  the  wild  forest,  I  saw  red  and 
white  clover  and  grasses  of  heavier  growth 
than  can  be  found  in  the  cultivated  meadows 
of  the  east.  The  soil  is  of  incredible  depth 
and  richness.  At  the  green  grocer's  store 
were  exposed  for  sale  vegetables  and  fruits 
that  would  win  every  prize  in  an  eastern  coun- 
ty fair,  and  yet  they  are  ordinary  here,  and  so 
cheap  that  it  is  foolish  to  go  hungry.  Roses 
grow  like  trees  on  the  Pacific  coast,  and  helio- 
trope hedges  are  ordinary.  The  poor  little 
eastern  flowers  that  are  reared  so  tenderly 
in  hot  houses,  and  transplanted  so  carefully 
in  the  spring,  and  praised  so  proudly  when 
promise  of  a  bud  appears  are,  after  all,  only 
insignificant  dwarfs  when  compared  to  the 
sturdy  Pacific  variety.  The  west  and  far 
northwest  have  only  begun  to  grow.  The 
possibilities  are  enormous. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  PACIFIC  VOYAGE AN  INGENIOUS 

SCHEME. 

At  Vancouver  the  Canadian  Pacific  Rail- 
road Steamer  "Empress  of  India"  awaited 
the  English  mail  which  was  rushing  across 
the  continent  from  Montreal  twenty-four 
hours  late.  The  "Empress"  looked  "kind 
and  sound  in  wind  and  limb"  as  she  floated 
her  graceful  five  hundred  feet  of  length  in 
the  waters  of  Puget  Sound.  She  was  white 
and  clean  when  we  went  aboard,  and  no  one 
would  suspect  she  could  be  restless  and 
"roily"  and  "pitchy"  and  inconsiderate  as 
she  proved  herself  in  the  north  Pacific  a  few 
days  later.  We  sailed  at  five  in  the  after- 
noon and  got  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  pine-bor- 
dered shore,  tree-clad  mountain  ridges  and 
craggy  mountain  tops  before  darkness  closed 
upon  us. 

The  captain  was  going  to  sail  over  the  top 
of  the  earth  in  order  to  get  around  it  quicker. 
In  other  words,  he  was  to  take  the  shorter 
northern  circle  to  Yokohama.  We  had 

hoped  the  water  would  be  more  level  at  the 
u 


"Not  Seasick  But  Slightly  Indisposed."    13 

top  but  were  disappointed.  My  personal 
feelings  are  of  no  importance,  whatever,  but 
my  friend  Phil,  the  Philosopher  from  Phila- 
delphia, lost  his  appetite  among  other  things 
early  on  the  voyage.  He  denied  that  he  was 
seasick,  but  complained  that  the  food  was 
not  suitable  for  his  philosophical  stomach. 
He  spent  much  time  in  enumerating  the 
things  he  did  not  know  about  navigation. 
The  item  that  troubled  him  most  was,  why 
the  ship  should  be  made  to  reek  of  disinfect- 
ants when  any  other  odor  would  be  prefer- 
able even  if  more  deadly. 

The  passengers  who  were  not  seasick  con- 
ducted themselves  in  a  proud  and  puissant 
manner.  They  went  to  the  dining  saloon 
regularly  and  brought  back  the  odor  of  boil- 
ed pork  and  cabbage.  They  laughed  im- 
moderately and  looked  perniciously  cheerful 
when  there  was  really  nothing  but  sadness 
and  nausea  on  deck.  Our  German  friend, 
wrapped  in  blankets  in  his  steamer  chair,  ex- 
pressed our  sentiments  exactly,  when  he  said 
as  he  gazed  sadly  at  the  tossing  sea,  rising 
and  falling  with  the  rolling  of  the  boat: — 
"I  haf  no  appetite  for  such  an  ocean." 

There  was  a  war  hero  on  board.  The  sword 
in  his  strong  right  hand  had  mowed  down 


14  Oriental  Rambles. 

rows  of  Philippines.  The  gatling  gun  had 
no  terrors  for  him.  Of  the  bolo  he  was  not 
afraid,  but  as  he  lay  wrapped  in  blankets  in 
a  steamer  chair  on  the  windward  side  of  the 
deck  the  mere  mention  of  cabbage  fried  with 
pork  would  send  him  flying  to  the  rail  where 
he  would  tremble  and  writhe  until  all  was 
lost  save  honor. 

On  shipboard  people  soon  become  ac- 
quainted. The  iceberg  social  fortifications 
with  which  people  surround  themselves  at 
home  melt  away  at  sea.  Any  one  who  does 
not  become  sociable  on  a  long  voyage  is  not 
merely  frozen  but  mummified. 

When  my  friend,  Phil,  the  Philosopher 
from  Philadelphia,  reeled  up  on  deck  one 
morning  he  saw  a  white-faced  young  woman 
with  her  head  in  the  lap  of  a  pale  and  melan- 
choly-looking young  man.  They  were  ap- 
parently bride  and  groom.  The  Philoso- 
pher's tender  heart  was  touched  and  he  said, 
"Madam,  you  look  ill.  Isn't  there  some- 
thing I  can  do  for  you?" 

"No-o,"  she  moaned. 

"Can't  I  get  you  a  cup  of  bouillon?" 

"No-o." 

"Well,  your  husband,  he  looks  ill  too; 
can't  I  get  something  for  him?" 


Burial  at  Sea.  15 

"No-o,  and  he  isn't  my  husband,  and  I 
don't  know  who  he  is." 

The  best  that  can  be  said  of  the  days  of 
this  voyage  is  that  they  passed  with  great 
regularity  and  solemnity.  They  were  alike 
in  being  cold,  damp,  dreary  and  sunless.  We 
passed  within  sight  of  some  of  the  Aleutian 
Islands  and  they  did  not  appear  cheerful. 
There  were  fire  drills  occasionally  to  show 
what  would  happen  if  the  ship  burned  up. 

The  crew  was  largely  Chinese.  All  the 
cooks,  dining  saloon  stewards,  and  room 
stewards  were  Chinese.  The  passengers  were 
from  everywhere.  There  was  a  Chinese 
Mandarin  going  home  under  a  cloud.  In 
some  way  he  had  displeased  the  Empress 
and  there  were  strong  probabilities  that  when 
he  should  reach  Pekin  a  separation  would  oc- 
cur in  the  neighborhood  of  his  Adam's  ap- 
ple. The  Empress  has  such  frolicsome  ways 
with  those  who  please  her  not.  He  looked 
very  dignified  in  his  blue  silk  robes  and  em- 
broidered skirt,  but  his  mustache  had  a  mel- 
ancholy droop  and  his  eye  a  wistful  sadness. 

On  the  fifth  day  out  there  was  a  burial  at 
sea.  An  English  lady  seventy  years  of  age, 
traveling  around  the  world  with  her  daugh- 
ter for  pleasure,  had  suddenly  expired  on 


16  Oriental  Rambles. 

deck  the  day  before,  and  just  as  the  cold 
morning  light  was  struggling  through  the 
fog  the  services  of  burial  were  held.  A  Brit- 
ish flag  was  draped  over  a  human  form, 
wrapped  and  weighted,  lying  on  a  plank  by 
the  rail.  The  ship's  officers  stood  in  line 
around  it;  the  engines  stopped  their  throb- 
bing; the  giant  propellers  ceased  churning 
the  brine  into  foam;  the  ship  drifted,  and 
all  was  strangely  still.  A  passenger  clergy- 
man read  the  burial  service  of  the  Church 
of  England,  while  the  cold  and  foggy  winds 
from  the  north  Pacific  blew  his  vestments 
about  him.  All  heads  were  bowed,  and  at 
the  words  "to  the  sea  we  commit  her  body," 
sailors  tilted  the  plank  and  the  silent  form 
glided  from  under  the  flag  and  with  a  splash 
disappeared  in  the  sullen  waters.  There 
was  a  clang  of  bells,  the  great  propellers 
resumed  their  monotonous  grind  and  the 
ship  once  more  moved  westward  through 
the  turbulent  sea. 

When  we  were  in  the  middle  of  the  Pa- 
cific, two  thousand  miles  from  America  or 
Japan,  and  over  a  mile  to  the  nearest  land 
(straight  down)  a  strange  thing  happened. 
We  mislaid  a  day — lost  it.  At  the  one  hun- 
dred and  eightieth  degree  of  longitude  we 


A  Day  Suddenly  Disappeared.          17 

missed  it.  It  suddenly  disappeared.  At 
thirteen  minutes  after  two  o'clock  Sunday  it 
instantly  became  Monday  at  the  same  hour. 
The  only  way  to  recover  it  was  to  go  back 
and  pick  it  up. 

The  Philosopher  had  a  new  scheme  for 
perpetual  youth.  All  he  needed  was  an  air- 
ship that  would  sail  around  the  world  in 
twenty-four  hours.  Then,  by  sailing  west- 
ward, and  keeping  under  the  sun,  night 
would  never  come,  and  so  no  days  could  be 
charged  up  against  his  age. 

"But,"  I  objected.  "You  will  trip  up  on 
this  line  and  lose  a  day.  This  one  hundred 
eightieth  meridan  was  evidently  put  here  to 
foil  just  such  a  scheme." 

"It  wouldn't  foil  me,"  he  declared.  "I 
wouldn't  cross  it  at  all;  I'd  go  around  it." 

At  last  we  sighted  land  and  after  steam- 
ing along  the  coast  for  several  hours  came  to 
rest  in  the  crowded  roadstead  of  Yokohama. 
Among  the  ships  of  many  nations  that  were 
in  the  harbor  were  some  of  the  Japanese  war 
vessels  that  surprised  the  world  by  their  victo- 
ries over  the  Russians.  Steam  tenders  landed 
us  at  the  dock  and  after  a  few  formalities 
with  the  polite  customs  officials  we  stepped 
into  jinrikishas,  and  the  little  brown  men 


1 8  Oriental  Rambles. 

with  bare  muscular  legs  drew  us  at  a  rapid 
trot  along  the  street  skirting  the  water  front 
to  the  Grand  Hotel,  and  the  first  stage  of 
our  trip  was  over. 


CHAPTER  III. 

JAPAN FIRST  IMPRESSIONS. 

From  my  window  at  the  Grand  Hotel  I 
looked  out  upon  a  strange  sight.  It  was  in- 
deed Japan.  At  the  hotel  entrance  a  group 
of  rikisha  men  awaited  their  fares  as  cab- 
men do  in  America,  but  they  were  not  like 
the  crowding  banditti  that  shout  "Keb? 
Keb?"  in  the  face  of  a  foreigner  at  the  sta- 
tions or  docks  in  New  York,  for  when  one 
emerges  from  the  hotel  these  rikisha  men 
will  merely  smile,  and  bow,  and  point  to  their 
respective  rikishas  without  offering  any  physi- 
cal violence. 

If  you  should  step  into  one  of  the  vehicles, 
the  lucky  owner  will  bow  again,  and  placing 
himself  between  the  shafts  will  run  as  swift- 
ly as  Mercury  on  the  wings  of  the  wind  and 
you  arrive  at  your  destination  with  a  flourish, 
and  as  quickly  as  with  a  horse.  For  the  ride, 
including  the  politeness,  only  five  cents  is 
asked,  and  ten  expected.  In  this  cold  season 
their  short  muscular  legs  were  encased  in  skin 
tight  blue  cotton  trousers  and  they  wore 
jackets  of  the  same  material,  but  in  the  hot 


2O  Oriental   Rambles. 

season  they  divest  themselves  of  much  more 
than  the  law  would  allow  in  America. 

There  were  children  in  the  street;  myriads 
of  them.  They  seemed  to  run  in  pairs,  for 
nearly  every  urchin  had  a  baby  strapped  to 
its  little  back  and  the  two  were  inclosed  in  a 
single  padded  kimona.  The  effect  was  a  lit- 
tle startling  at  first,  for  it  appeared  that  for 
every  pair  of  legs  there  were  two  heads.  It 
was  sometimes  puzzling  to  tell  which  head 
belonged  to  the  legs.  The  children  looked 
like  the  Japanese  dolls  that  are  sold  in  Ameri- 
ca. They  had  the  chubby  round  faces,  shav- 
en scalps,  (excepting  the  top  knot,)  almond 
shaped,  bright  eyes,  and  flat  small  noses  of 
the  dolls.  And  how  they  could  run, — but 
not  faster  than  their  noses. 

Phil,  the  Philosopher,  said  that  hereafter 
his  donations  to  the  missionary  fund  would 
be  limited  to  handkerchiefs. 

There  was  a  canal  at  the  side  of  the  hotel 
and  on  it  passed  the  curious  sanpans  or  boats 
propelled  with  an  oar  or  sweep  at  the  stern. 
Larger  ones  were  rigged  with  square  sails 
upon  which  were  painted  the  criss-cross  puz- 
zles that  serve  as  characters  of  the  language. 

Over  beyond  on  the  brow  of  the  hill  stood 
a  temple,  grey  with  age.  The  carved  wooden 


Double  Headed  Children.  21 

dragons  on  the  gables  and  rafters  glared 
across  the  expanse  of  tiled  roofs.  Nearby 
was  a  solitary  pine  tree.  Its  long  branches 
stretched  across  the  temple  entrance  as  if 
in  benediction  upon  the  natives  as  they  passed 
in  and  out.  It  was  just  at  sunset.  The  sky 
was  a  riot  of  colors.  From  the  temple  came 
the  deep  tones  of  a  gong  that  lingered  in  the 
air  with  mellow  reverberations. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

YOKOHAMA JAPAN    AWAKENED. 

The  modernization  of  Japan  began  only 
fifty  years  ago  when  Parry  anchored  his  im- 
posing fleet  in  Mississippi  Bay  near  Yoko- 
hama, and  by  the  most  clever  diplomacy  ne- 
gotiated a  treaty  by  which  certain  ports  were 
to  be  opened  to  the  commerce  of  the  world. 
This  terminated  the  policy  of  non-communi- 
cation with  the  outer  world  to  which  Japan 
had  adhered  for  two  hundred  years  or  more. 

During  these  fifty  odd  years  Japan  has  ad- 
vanced from  the  feudal  form  of  government, 
similar  to  that  of  the  middle  ages  in  Europe, 
to  a  government  with  one  of  the  most  liberal 
constitutions  of  the  world.  From  the  dif- 
ferent countries  she  has  chosen  the  best  models 
for  adoption  into  her  commmercial  and  politi- 
cal life.  She  has  won  two  great  wars  on  land 
and  sea.  She  has  earned  and  compelled  the 
consideration  and  respect  of  all  nations. 

When  the  Japanese  were  known  only  as 
the  greatest  artists  in  the  world  we  consid- 
ered them  heathen,  but  now  that  they  have 
proven  that  they  can  also  fight,  and  have 
killed  and  maimed  hundreds  of  thousands  of 

22 


The  Test  of  Civilization.  23 

Russians,  and  taken  by  force  countries  that 
did  not  belong  to  them,  we  acknowledge 
them  civilized,  and  award  them  a  place  in  the 
family  group  of  nations. 

Those  who  would  see  Japan  with  the  pic- 
turesque and  romantic  atmosphere  of  the  an- 
cient times  should  go  at  once.  The  electric 
lights  will  soon  make  the  paper  lanterns  seem 
dim,  and  the  trolley  cars  and  the  automobiles 
will  given  even  the  rikisha  men  a  hard  race. 
The  kimonas  are  passing.  The  ugly  derby 
hat  and  other  European  abominations  are 
more  and  more  in  evidence.  The  Japanese 
long  to  learn  and  advance  in  European  civil- 
ization. Clothes  help  the  cause  along  al- 
though the  people  lose  in  appearance  and 
comfort  by  the  change. 

One  may  well  spend  several  days  wander- 
ing about  the  streets  of  Yokohama.  It  is 
all  so  new  and  so  delightful. 

The  Benton  Dori,  and  Honcho  Dori  are 
streets  in  the  native  quarter  devoted  to  the 
curio  trade,  and  there  one  may  wander  for 
hours  studying  the  strange  and  beautiful 
goods  of  the  olden  time.  Some  may  not  be 
as  old  as  they  look,  for  real  antiques  are 
getting  scarce.  However  who  would  object 
to  a  really  beautiful  antique  merely  because 


24  Oriental  Rambles. 

it  is  new!  Certainly  not  Phil,  the  Philoso- 
pher. He  has  a  passion  for  antiques.  He 
has  acquired  a  nice  wooden  idol  with  an  ex- 
tended palm,  which  is,  strange  to  say,  wrong 
side  up.  That  is  sufficient  evidence  that  it  is 
not  genuine. 

Poor  Phil,  in  Egypt  he  purchased  a  mum- 
mified sacred  hawk,  guaranteed  to  be  several 
thousand  years  antique,  but  alas,  it  proved  too 
new  and  he  had  to  throw  it  overboard  at  sea. 

The  curio  shops  are  open  in  front  to  the 
streets  and  you  are  welcome  to  enter,  and 
wander  about,  and  inspect  to  your  heart's  con- 
tent. The  shop-keeper  bows,  and  smiles, 
and  sucks  the  air  through  his  teeth  in  the 
most  polite  "Jappy"  fashion,  and  asks  ten 
times  as  much  as  he  expects  to  get. 

The  labor  expended  on  some  trifle  of  carv- 
ing or  embroidery  is  so  great,  and  the  price 
so  small  that  one  is  tempted  to  buy  and  buy 
until  extra  baggage  accumulates  and  bids 
him  stop.  Ivories,  wonderfully  carved — 
porcelains,  exquisitely  painted — bronzes, 
cloisonne,  lacquer,  ancient  arms,  and  em- 
broideries that  are  marvels  of  beauty,  fas- 
cinate and  nothing  but  the  joy  of  possession 
will  satisfy  the  traveler. 


CHAPTER  V. 

TOKIO ODD      CUSTOMS THE     YOSHAWARA. 

A  few  hours  railroad  ride  across  the  rice 
fields  brings  one  to  Tokio,  the  capital.  Ja- 
pan being  a  mountainous  country  with  a 
large  population  every  spot  of  tillable  land 
is  cultivated  to  the  highest  degree.  The  soil 
is  broken,  not  by  plows  or  spades,  but  by  a 
long  heavy  hoe.  The  lands  that  can  be 
flooded  are  planted  by  hand  to  rice,  and  the 
elevated  spots  and  terraces  to  vegetables. 
The  rice  when  ripe  is  reaped,  bundled  and 
hung  on  bamboo  poles  or  trees  planted  for 
the  purpose,  to  dry.  When  cured  the  rice 
is  threshed  by  women  who  draw  the  straw, 
a  few  spears  at  a  time,  through  iron  combs 
and  then  winnow  the  grain  in  the  wind  or 
with  hand  bellows.  The  straw  is  used  for 
thatch,  rope  making,  sandals,  paper,  etc. 
Nothing  is  wasted.  Vegetables  are  thickly 
planted.  Every  inch  of  soil  is  utilized.  A 
monster  radish,  called  the  daikon,  is  one  of 
the  staple  foods. 

The  cottages  of  the  farmers  reflect  the  ar- 
tistic and  aesthetic  nature  of  the  people. 

25 


26  Oriental  Rambles. 

Humble  though  the  home  may  be — its  two 
or  three  small  rooms  constructed  of  straw, 
bamboo  and  paper — there  will  be  a  minature 
flower  garden — only  four  or  five  feet  square 
perhaps,  but  complete  with  walks,  lakes, 
arched  bridges  and  with  trees  and  flowers 
dwarfed  to  correspond  to  the  scale. 

The  Japanese  are  liberal  advertisers  and 
the  landscape  is  enlivened  with  larger  signs 
than  seen  in  America  extolling  the  virtues  of 
beer,  biscuits  and  tobacco.  Japanese  char- 
acters made  of  painted  stones  on  a  distant 
hillside  remind  the  traveler  what  to  take  for 
"that  tired  feeling." 

Railroad  station  scenes  are  always  inter- 
esting. Japanese  women  run  when  going  to 
or  from  a  train.  Short  steps  are  required 
because  their  knees  are  bound  by  tight 
kimonas.  The  scuffling  of  sandals  that  drag 
at  the  heel,  and  the  clatter  of  wooden  clogs 
become  familiar  sounds.  Japanese  crowds 
are  always  good  natured.  In  fact  good  na- 
ture and  courtesy  are  the  characteristics  most 
in  evidence.  They  lead  the  simple  life,  live 
close  to  nature,  and  have  a  keen  sense  of  the 
humorous  as  well  as  the  artistic.  I  have  seen 
grown  men  rest  in  their  labor  of  carrying 
brick,  take  a  top  from  a  pocket  and  spin  it 


Japanese  Patriotism.  27 

with  the  merriment  of  children  for  a  few 
minutes,  then  resume  their  work.  It  is  strange 
that  such  gentle  people  should  be  such  in- 
vincible warriors.  They  have  never  known 
defeat,  and  in  the  hour  of  their  greatest  vic- 
tories they  have  surprised  the  world  by  the 
modesty  of  their  demands,  their  kindness  to 
prisoners  and  their  generosity  to  their  fallen 
foe. 

Intellectually  the  Japanese  are  at  least 
equal  to  any  race.  They  are  better  students. 
Education  is  universal.  Their  schools  are 
on  model  lines.  Children  may  be  seen  in  the 
school  yards  drilling  in  military  tactics. 
Their  civilization  is  not  new.  The  Japanese 
enjoyed  books,  arts  and  silks  while  Euro- 
peans were  still  savages  dressed  in  skin. 

To  the  Japanese  patriotism  is  not  only 
the  greatest  virtue,  but  the  fundamental  prin- 
ciple of  their  Shinto  religion.  The  old  Sa- 
mauri  class,  or  soldier  knights,  considered 
that  their  lives  belonged  to  their  feudal 
lords.  Feudalism  has  been  abolished  and 
the  clans  disbanded,  but  the  spirit  of  Samauri 
still  lives  in  the  hearts  of  the  people.  Any 
citizen  would  consider  it  an  honor  to  die  for 
his  country.  During  the  war  there  was  no 
lack  of  volunteers.  The  most  dangerous 


28  Oriental  Rambles. 

duty  was  sought  as  a  favor.  Women  sent 
all  the  males  of  the  family  that  would  be 
taken.  Women  did  the  men's  work  and  even 
attempted  to  reach  the  fighting  line.  It  is 
said  that  women  after  giving  their  men  and 
their  money  even  sold  themselves  to  the 
Yoshawara  to  get  more  money  to  give  to  the 
cause. 

The  Yoshawara  is  a  city  within  the  city. 
It  has  high  inclosing  walls  with  a  single  gate. 
Within  this  wall  are  many  streets  of  three  or 
four  story  houses.  There  are  said  to  be 
twenty  thousand  women  in  the  Yoshawara. 
They  are  sold  for  a  certain  period  for  pur- 
poses of  public  immorality  and  when  that 
period  has  expired  they  return  to  their 
homes,  marry  and  do  not  suffer  the  social 
ostracism  that  would  follow  such  a  life  in 
America  or  Europe.  If  necessary  for  the 
support  of  parents  it  is  considered  a  filial 
duty,  and  a  pious  act,  for  a  daughter  to  sell 
herself  to  the  Yoshawara,  that  her  parents 
may  not  want.  They  are  more  often  sold 
by  parents  or  guardians.  The  Yoshawara 
women  are  known  by  their  obie,  or  broad 
sash,  being  tied  in  front  instead  of  the  back 
as  respectable  women  wear  it.  They  are 
licensed  and  supervised  by  the  government. 


Social  Standards.  29 

The  Japanese  take  the  position  that  since  the 
social  evil  must  and  does  exist  in  all  coun- 
tries either  openly  or  secretly,  it  is  better, 
sociologically,  that  it  be  sequestered,  and 
under  medical  and  police  control. 

Most  travelers,  men  and  women,  do  not 
think  the  visit  to  Tokio  complete  unless  they 
walk  or  ride  through  the  streets  of  the  Yos- 
hawara  in  the  evening.  The  streets  are 
brilliantly  lighted  and  thronged  by  an  order- 
ly crowd.  The  street  floor  of  the  houses  are 
open  to  the  sidewalk  except  for  a  grating. 
Behind  this  grating  with  a  setting  like  a 
stage  of  a  comic  opera  are  groups  of  Mus- 
mees  in  resplendent  kimonas  with  faces  paint- 
ed white  with  rice  powder,  lips  crimsoned, 
and  hair  wonderfully  arranged  in  puffs  and 
wings  stiff  with  paste  and  glittering  with  tin- 
sel hair  pins.  A  half  dozen  girls  may  be  ar- 
rayed in  lilac  kimonas,  a  half  dozen  in  rose 
and  another  bevy  in  dove  color.  They 
amuse  themselves  by  smoking  the  universal 
long-stem  small  pipes  that  hold  tobacco 
enough  for  only  two  or  three  puffs,  when  the 
ashes  are  knocked  out  on  the  side  of  the 
charcoal  brasier  that  serves  also  as  a  hand 
warmer.  Others  may  be  playing  on  the 
seimsen — a  form  of  guitar.  They  are  pic- 


3°  Oriental  Rambles. 

turesque,  in  no  way  vulgar  or  rude,  and  are 
much  amused  at  the  efforts  of  foreigners  to 
say  the  few  words  of  Japanese  they  think 
they  know. 

Many  Europeans  sojourning  in  Japan 
contract  Japanese  marriages,  taking  advan- 
tage of  the  extremely  easy  divorce  system 
which  requires  no  legal  formalities.  In  spite 
of  the  fact,  that  marriage  may  be  dissolved 
at  the  good  pleasure  of  the  husband,  such 
separations  are  extremely  rare  among  the 
Japanese  themselves.  There  a  man  is  truly 
"master  in  his  own  house."  No  matter  how 
wrong  her  husband  may  be  a  wife  must  al- 
ways consider  him  right,  and  his  will  as  law. 
There  can,  therefore,  be  no  quarrelling  or 
bickering  in  a  Japanese  family.  In  spite  of 
this  strange  condition  the  women  do  not 
seem  to  have  discovered  how  unhappy  they 
are,  but  appear  the  merriest  and  happiest 
women  in  the  world.  In  spite  of  all  these 
precautions  taken  for  their  protection,  Jap- 
anese men  are  led  around  by  the  cord  on  the 
heart,  or  pushed  along  with  a  club  on  the 
back,  by  women  just  as  they  are  in  other 
countries. 

The  Japanese  are  passionately  fond  of 
flowers.  Business  men  and  all  classes  of  so- 


A  Tragedy  in  Chrysanthemums. 


The  Chrysanthemum  Show.  31 

ciety  suspend  duties  to  make  a  holiday  in  hon- 
or of  the  cherry  blossoms.  When  the  wistaria 
blooms,  or  the  plums  blossom,  or  the  chrysan- 
themum blooms,  flower  festivals  are  held. 
All  the  phases  of  nature  are  watched  with 
interest.  Their  admiration  for  nature 
amounts  almost  to  worship.  Family  crests 
are  usually  conventional  designs  of  flowers, 
for  instance  the  Shoguns  crest  is  three  leaves 
of  the  hydrangea  inclosed  in  a  circle.  The 
Emperor's  is  a  sixteen  petaled  chrysanthe- 
mum. 

Late  in  October  there  was  a  chrysanthe- 
mum show  in  Ueno  Park.  It  was  more  like 
an  exposition.  Innumerable  banners  flut- 
tered from  forests  of  bamboo  poles  and  dec- 
orated the  entrances  to  the  booths  that 
crowded  each  side  of  the  street.  A  ticket- 
seller  at  each  booth  loudly  proclaimed  the 
superior  merits  of  his  show  and  sold  for  a 
penny  a  wooden  ticket  large  enough  to  be 
worth  that  for  firewood.  He  also  presented 
a  program  and  among  the  Japanese  adver- 
tisements I  noticed  a  cut  of  a  large  bottle 
with  the  legend  in  English  "Try  Scott's 
Emulsion." 

The  chrysanthemums  themselves  were  not 
as  large  as  those  grown  in  hot  houses  in 


32  Oriental  Rambles. 

America,  but  they  were  displayed  in  wonder- 
ful quantities  and  strange  designs.  They 
were  used  principally  to  cover  set  pieces  in 
tableau.  Entire  scenes  from  the  theatre, 
with  all  the  characters  made  of  blooms,  were 
set  on  circular  stages  that  revolved  at  short 
intervals,  battle  scenes,  and  mythological 
legends  being  largely  represented.  There 
was  a  striking  tableau  of  a  maiden  with  a 
wax  face  and  chrysanthemum  kimona,  stand- 
ing under  a  blooming  cherry  tree,  bidding 
good-bye  to  a  floral  soldier,  with  a  floral  Fuji 
in  the  background.  It  seemed  to  be  a  glori- 
fied Eden  Musee  in  flowers.  There  was  a 
naval  battle  scene  with  chrysanthemum  bat- 
tleships in  deadly  combat,  in  which,  of  course, 
the  Russian  chrysanthemum  ships  were  sink- 
ing in  a  chrysanthemum  sea. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  EMPEROR'S  BIRTHDAY — JAPAN  TRI- 
UMPHANT. 

The  Emperor's  birthday,  November  third, 
is  a  holiday  in  Japan.  The  Emperor  reviews 
the  army  in  the  morning  and  there  is  a  state 
ball  in  the  evening. 

At  seven  thirty  o'clock  we  left  the  Imperial 
hotel  in  rikishas,  proceeding  at  the  usual 
brisk  run  to  the  field.  The  streets  were 
swarming  with  people.  Flags  and  bunting 
were  floating  to  the  breeze  from  every  build- 
ing. Leaving  the  rikishas  at  the  entrance 
we  entered  the  field  between  columns  of  mili- 
tary guards,  and  proceeded  to  the  part  re- 
served for  foreigners.  This  was  near  a  cor- 
ner of  a  square  of  perhaps  a  half  mile  to  each 
side. 

To  the  right  was  the  Imperial  tent,  and 
spaces  reserved  for  foreign  diplomats.  On 
the  opposite  side  was  drawn  up  the  artillery 
and  cavalry,  while  on  the  right  and  left  sides 
were  massed  many  regiments  of  infantry. 
This  army  of  upward  fifty  thousand  veter- 
ans stood  as  rigid  as  statues.  They  were 


34  Oriental  Rambles. 

awaiting  the  Emperor.  Beyond  the  soldiers 
were  thousands  of  citizens,  men,  women,  and 
children,  and  in  the  distance  Fugiyama 
reared  its  snowy  cone  twelve  thousand  feet 
into  the  blue  sky. 

Through  the  gates  came  a  multitude  of 
notables — army  and  navy  officers  in  brilliant 
uniforms,  foreign  diplomats  and  military  at- 
tachees.  The  uniforms  of  all  nations  seemed 
to  be  represented.  The  Chinese  officers  and 
diplomats  in  magnificent  brocades,  satins 
and  furs,  and  with  peacock  feathers  in  their 
caps  were  gorgeous  as  a  millinery  store. 

An  hour  passed.  The  soldiers  stood  like 
statues;  not  a  military  knee  had  moved; 
with  all  these  thousands  assembled  there  was 
not  a  sound;  not  a  voice;  not  a  murmur;  not 
a  drum  had  rolled;  not  even  an  eye  had 
rolled. 

At  last  there  was  a  bugle  note.  An  offi- 
cer extraordinarily  braided  with  gold  rode 
through  the  gate  followed  by  a  company  of 
cavalry  with  lances.  Then  followed  the  Im- 
perial outriders,  and  the  Imperial  coach  in 
which  sat  "The  Dragon's  Eye,"  the  one 
hundred  and  twenty-first  reigning  descendent 
of  the  Sun  Goddess — The  Mikado  of  Japan. 
Instantly  all  heads  were  uncovered.  The 


The  Military  Review.  35 

Emperor,  stern  of  visage,  generous  of  girth, 
his  strong  intellectual  face  scantily  bewhis- 
kered,  looked  every  inch  a  king.  He  bowed 
kindly  to  the  right  and  left  as  he  passed 
rapidly  to  the  Imperial  tent.  There  he 
mounted  a  waiting  horse  and  followed  by  a 
body  of  officers  began  the  march  at  a  walk 
around  the  square.  The  military  band  the 
while  playing  the  national  air,  a  solemn  chant 
suggestive  of  the  dead  march  from  Saul. 

The  circuit  being  completed  he  took  a  po- 
sition in  front  of  his  tent  while  the  troops 
marched  in  review  before  him  to  the  lively 
music  with  which  they  had  gone  to  battle  in 
Manchuria. 

The  maneuvering  of  this  immense  body  of 
men,  horses  and  artillery  with  clock  work 
precision  and  great  rapidity  was  in  itself  a 
demonstration  of  its  effectiveness  and  an  ex- 
planation for  is  successes.  There  were  no 
delays,  no  gaps,  no  hitches.  They  marched 
in  close  formation,  double  quick.  The  re- 
view was  all  over  in  a  few  minutes.  A  pow- 
erful army  had  passed.  No  wonder  such  an 
army  could  march  around  the  Russians  and 
strike  where  least  expected. 

We  left  the  field  before  the  crowd  dis* 
persed  to  avoid  the  rush.  In  spite  of  that  we 


36  Oriental  Rambles. 

were  caught  between  two  streams  of  humanity, 
but  the  crowd  was  good  natured  and  orderly. 
The  Japanese  are  probably  the  cleanest  peo- 
ple in  the  world,  both  in  their  bodies  and 
clothing.  Consequently  close  crowding  is  not 
as  abhorent  as  in  some  other  countries.  Pro- 
fane and  vulgar  words  are  not  known,  at 
least  so  the  guide  said.  I  hope  this  is  true, 
but  he  also  said  there  is  no  lying,  which 
sounded  Irish  to  the  Philosopher. 

The  policemen  carried  ponderous  swords 
at  their  belts,  but  were  punctiliously  polite  to 
the  people.  At  one  point  the  police  were  to 
hold  back  the  crowd  from  passing  through  a 
certain  street,  but  when  the  crowd  broke 
through,  the  policemen  bowed  and  allowed 
them  to  pass  without  breaking  any  heads, 
maiming  any  children,  arresting  any  women, 
or  using  words  that  would  cause  the  angels  to 
put  cotton  in  their  ears. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

NIKKO    AND    ITS    TEMPLES. 

If  there  is  an  enchanted  forest  it  is  Nikko. 
If  castles  could  be  conjured  from  the  caves 
of  magic,  nothing  more  elaborate  could  be 
imagined  than  its  temples.  Nikko  means 
"sun  brightness"  and  there  is  a  Japanese  say- 
ing "Use  not  the  word  beautiful,  until  you 
have  seen  Nikko."  Every  turn  in  the  av- 
enues of  giant  evergreens  brings  new  and 
wonderful  scenes, — rushing  torrents,  tink- 
ling cascades,  mossy  stone  idols  on  ferny 
banks,  temples,  pavilions,  pagodas  or  en- 
trancing views  of  mountains  and  valleys. 

In  the  dark  and  mysterious  shade  of  an- 
cient pines  are  temples  so  elaborately  carved, 
gilded  and  lacquered  that  they  seem  more 
like  the  jewel  boxes  of  the  Gods  than  the 
handiwork  of  man,  and  about  them  is 
that  indescribable  solemnity  which  casts  a 
spell  like  that  of  the  interior  of  a  great  cathe- 
dral. But  cathedrals  in  cities  are  so  palpa- 
bly artificial,  while  Nikko  seems  so  near  to 
nature  that  it  might  have  grown  as  the  flow- 
ers grow,  and  its  temples  have  been  crystal- 

37 


38  Oriental  Rambles. 

lized  from  the  essence  of  beauty  after  a  mil- 
lion years  of  refinement  in  the  studio  of  na- 
ture. 

When  one  views  St.  Peter's  in  Rome,  or 
St.  Paul's  in  London,  or  the  Temple  of  Kar- 
nak  in  Upper  Egypt,  words  come  freely 
enough — grand,  imposing,  enormous.  But 
when  one  stands  before  that  marble  miracle 
of  the  Taj  in  India,  or  a  tiny  temple  at  Nik- 
ko,  words  fail.  To  them  shall  be  paid  the 
supreme  compliment  of  silent  awe.  To  them 
shall  be  admitted  the  defeat  of  words;  but  a 
rapture  fills  the  soul,  and  the  mind  is  hum- 
bled befitting  an  approach  to  the  deity.  Such 
creations  are  in  themselves  a  worship  as  they 
were  truly  intended.  Yet  each  of  these  we 
call  heathen  because  they  approach  the  deity 
by  another  road  than  the  one  we,  ourselves, 
have  constructed.  Can  the  Great  Spirit  of 
Love — the  Creator  of  Nature's  laws — be  so 
particular  by  what  name  he  is  addressed,  or 
the  form  used  in  addressing  him,  provided 
all  forms  are  equally  sincere  and  worshipful? 

Before  an  image  of  Buddha  a  native  was 
praying.  He  held  in  his  hand  a  silken  tassel 
and  as  he  repeated  a  prayer  he  turned  down 
a  thread.  There  were  hundreds  of  threads. 
His  face  denoted  intense  devotional  concen- 


The  Spirit  and  the  Form.  39 

tration  and  a  high  degree  of  spirituality.  He 
was  in  no  way  disturbed  by  the  presence  of 
our  party,  indeed  he  seemed  to  be  unaware 
of  our  presence.  A  good  lady  turned  away 
with  a  look  of  abhorrence  and  remarked: 

"Poor  heathen,  how  ignorant.  Can't  he 
see  them  idols  is  dumb?" 

I  wonder  how  the  recording  angel  cast  up 
the  account.  Perhaps  the  good-hearted  soul 
is  even  now  discoursing  to  some  missionary 
circle  how  she  saw  the  heathen  bowing  down 
to  idols  of  wood  and  stone,  but  her  explana- 
tion may  not  include  the  fact  that  these 
heathen  ladies  and  gentlemen  no  more  wor- 
ship the  idol  than  Christians  worship  idols 
when  they  pray  before  the  cross,  or  crucifix, 
or  the  altar.  In  both  cases  it  is  merely  a 
symbol  to  assist  in  concentrating  the  mind 
on  the  deity.  The  image  is  not  a  God,  or  the 
image  of  a  God,  but  merely  the  image  or  stat; 
ue  of  a  man,  Gautama  Buddha,  who  founded 
Buddhism  in  India  six  hundred  years  before 
Christ,  and  whose  followers  number  nearly 
one-third  of  the  world's  population. 

There  is  a  striking  resemblance  between 
Buddhist  and  Catholic  religious  services. 
Each  has  the  incense,  bells,  candles,  images 
and  processions,  and  each  has  a  priesthood 


4°  Oriental  Rambles. 

wearing  distinctive  robes  and  leading  lives  of 
celibacy  and  charity.  They  have  monaster- 
ies and  schools  and  attain  a  state  of  eternal 
rest  and  blessedness,  not  by  the  vicarious 
sacrifice  of  a  Redeemer,  or  the  intervention 
of  saints,  but  by  enlightenment,  self  denial 
and  pure  living. 

It  is  curious  what  different  ideas  devotees 
of  different  religions  have  of  heaven.  To 
the  Buddhist  it  is  Nirvana,  the  calm  of  per- 
fect rest;  to  the  ancient  Norsemen  it  was  a 
land  of  perpetual  summer;  to  the  Moham- 
medan it  is  a  palace  of  sensual  delights; 
while  to  the  Hebrew,  it  is  a  city  with  golden 
streets,  pearly  gates,  jasper  seas,  and  the 
pomps  and  ceremonies  of  a  King  of  Jerusa- 
lem. In  these  luxurious  days  of  the  twentieth 
century  any  ordinary  millionaire  can  come 
very  near  buying  any  of  these  delightful  con- 
ditions except  the  Buddhist's. 

The  great  Tycoon  lyeyasu  is  buried  at 
Nikko.  A  temple  of  lacquer  and  gold  does 
him  honor.  Innumerable  bronze  lanterns, 
offerings  of  his  loving  admirers,  stand  in 
rows  and  avenues.  A  white  pony  with  blue 
eyes  is  kept  saddled  and  bridled  in  a  build- 
ing near  by  ready  for  the  hero  in  case  he 
should  decide  to  return  to  earth. 


A  Temple  Gate  at  Nikko. 


The  Monkeys  of  Nikko.  4 l 

This  stable  for  the  sacred  horse  is  also  a 
marvel  of  carving  and  lacquer.  On  it  are  the 
famous  monkeys  of  Nikko,  which  are  more 
celebrated  than  the  bronze  lanterns,  or  the 
elephant  whose  hind  legs  bend  the  wrong 
way  because  the  artist  was  left  handed. 

This  carving  represents  three  monkeys  in 
a  tree.  One  holds  his  hands  over  his  ears 
and  an  inscription  reads  "Hear  no  evil,"  an- 
other covers  his  eyes  with  his  hands  and  the 
inscription  reads  "See  no  evil,"  while  die 
third  covers  his  mouth  with  his  hands  and 
the  inscription  reads  "Speak  no  evil."  They 
illustrate  the  Japanese  saying,  "Hear  not  too 
much,  see  not  too  much,  speak  not  too  much." 

To  enter  a  temple  one  must  remove  the 
shoes.  One  must  also  remove  the  shoes  to 
enter  the  house  of  the  humblest  native. 
Shoes  and  sandals  are  for  the  dirt,  and 
dirt  is  not  for  the  house.  To  a  Japanese  his 
floor  is  also  his  chair  and  his  table.  But  there 
are  special  reasons  for  removing  shoes  in 
these  temples.  The  floors  are  covered  with 
priceless  lacquers  polished  like  the  finest 
piano.  Pillars  are  covered  with  inches  of 
lacquer,  at  fabulous  expense,  and  then  carved, 
showing  the  colors  of  the  successive  layers  of 
lacquer. 


42  Oriental  Rambles. 

The  wonders  of  the  temple,  its  art  objects 
and  its  relics  were  shown  us.  We  were  a 
band  of  foreigners,  ignorant  in  things  Jap- 
anese, not  of  their  religion,  and  some  of  us 
not  over  respectful,  but  the  priest  was  polite, 
considerate  and  even  indulgent.  The  one 
who  can  venerate  the  sacred  objects  of  an- 
other is  a  great  man.  How  much  these 
priests  have  to  bear  from  some  disrespectful 
foreigners  may  be  judged  by  the  following 
extracts  from  the  book  of  a  well  known  Eng- 
lish author: 

"You  buy  your  ticket,  a  little  piece  of 
coarse  paper,  with  its  contents  for  a  wonder 
in  Japanese  only,  and  sealed  and  counter- 
sealed  with  funny  little  red  ink  seals  to  pre- 
vent the  attendants  embezzling  the  money, 
and  you  enter  with  a  guide  who  only  talks 
Japanese  and  smiles  like  a  seraph,  while  the 
Philistine  pokes  fun  at  him  in  English.  This 
I  noticed  and  felt,  like  the  Pharisee,  on  the 
verge  of  uttering  thanks  that  I  was  not  like 
these  Publicans.  It  really  was  solemn  to 
me." 

You  will  be  glad  he  was  solemn  when  you 
learn  how  he  got  in,  which  he  relates  on  the 
preceding  page  of  his  book  in  the  following 
shocking  confession,  which  will  be  better  un- 


The  Sacred  Bridge.  43 

derstood  if  I  explain  that  to  enter  the  sacred 
groves  and  temple  grounds  one  must  pass  a 
small  river  or  torrent.  For  this  purpose,  on 
the  main  road,  a  bridge  is  provided.  It  is 
broad,  and  solid,  and  safe  and  good  enough 
for  even  an  author.  Near  this  is  the  sacred 
bridge  used  only  by  the  Mikado  in  ceremo- 
nials. This  sacred  bridge  is  out  of  the  way, 
inconvenient  to  reach,  gated  and  locked  at 
both  ends,  and  respected  by  all  natives. 
Now  read  the  advice  of  this  celebrated  Eng- 
lish author: 

"At  the  bridge,  dismount  and  send  your 
rikisha  and  baggage  to  the  hotel  to  wait 
for  you,  then  break  the  law*  Traffic  does 
not  cross  Mihashi,  the  exquisite  red  lacquer 
sacred  bridge  springing  from  shore  to  shore 
with  a  single  span  like  the  arc  of  a  rainbow, 
supported  at  each  end  by  a  gigantic  double  torii 
of  grey  granite.  But  over  this  airy  structure 
the  bodies  of  lyeyasu  and  his  descendants, 
living  and  dead,  had  been  borne  for  more 
than  two  centuries  before  their  dynasty 
fell.  Therefore,  break  the  law*  and  climb- 
ing over  the  feeble  gates,  enter  the  holy 
ground  of  Nikko  by  the  sacred  bridge." 


*Italics  mine.— G.  W.  C. 


44  Oriental  Rambles. 

Fortunately  for  the  traveling  public  such 
law  breakers  are  rare.  When  General  Grant 
visited  Japan  he  was  accompanied  to  Nikko 
by  a  delegation  from  the  Imperial  house- 
hold. As  a  mark  of  great  honor  he  was 
presented  with  an  Edict  of  the  Mikado 
throwing  open  the  sacred  bridge  to  him. 
After  reading  the  translation  he  puffed  vio- 
lently at  his  cigar  and  declared,  "I  will  be 
the  last  person  to  break  a  law  of  Japan,"  and 
crossed  the  public  bridge. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

GIANT  IDOLS,   MIYANOSHITA  AND  A  TRIP  TO 
HELL. 

From  Yokohama  there  are  many  side  trips 
for  a  day  about  which  chapters  might  well 
be  written. 

Kamakura  was  an  ancient  capital  and  a 
stronghold,  but  now  the  plains  where  a  mil- 
lion people  lived  are  only  rice  fields  and  vege- 
table gardens.  Civil  wars,  earthquakes  and 
tidal  waves  have  done  their  work,  and  only 
the  Gods  remain.  These  are  perhaps  the 
most  eminent  Gods  in  all  Japan.  Tidal 
waves  have  destroyed  the  temples  that  cov- 
ered the  Great  Buddha,  but  its  enormous 
weight  has  defied  time  and  waves  for  five 
hundred  years.  It  is  a  bronze  sitting  figure 
fifty  feet  high.  Visitors  may  sit  upon  his 
thumb  for  photographs. 

Nearby  are  parts  of  the  ancient  temple  of 
Hachiman,  the  war  hero,  with  the  arms  and 
trophies  of  many  great  soldiers  guarded  by 
priests. 

On  a  hillock  protected  by  a  shed-like  tem- 
porary structure  stands  Kwannon,  the  God- 

45 


46  Oriental  Rambles. 

dess  of  Mercy,  in  wood  carving  overlaid 
with  gold.  She  is  thirty  feet  high  and  hun- 
dreds of  years  old.  Fires  and  floods  have 
destroyed  the  temple  that  covered  her,  but 
they  have  been  merciful  to  the  "Lady  of 
Mercy." 

There  is  Miyanoshita,  that  delightful  nook 
in  the  mountains,  where  we  lingered  a  week 
reveling  in  the  scenery  and  parboiling  in  the 
natural  hot  springs.  The  waters  from  the 
hot  springs  are  piped  directly  into  the  hotel 
to  supply  the  cement  tanks  in  the  bathing 
compartments. 

This  hotel  is  "Jappier"  than  other  semi- 
foreign  hotels  at  which  we  had  stopped. 
Nearly  all  the  service  is  performed  by  pretty 
little  girls  who  cluster  about  like  butterflies 
and  seem  everywhere  present.  Their  round, 
laughing  faces  frequently  appeared  at  the 
most  unexpected  times, — even  when  the  rites 
of  the  bath  were  being  performed,  or  during 
the  ceremony  of  dressing,  so  sacred  to  an 
American.  They  meant  no  harm.  It  is  the 
custom  of  the  country. 

Across  the  street  was  a  public  bath  for  the 
common  people.  It  was  half  open  to  the 
the  street.  There  males  and  females  of  all 
ages  plunged  about  in  the  tanks  in  the  cos- 


In  Miyanoshita.  47 

tume  fashionable  in  the  Garden  of  Eden  be- 
fore the  fall.  They  paid  no  more  attention 
to  each  other  than  would  children. 

My  rikisha  man  was  very  much  amused 
at  my  inquiry  if  there  was  no  impropriety 
about  it.  The  idea  seemed  never  to  have  oc- 
curred to  him.  "Would  foreigners  see  any- 
thing wrong  in  it?"  he  asked.  It  was  plain 
he  thought  foreigners  must  be  a  very  evil- 
minded  lot. 

The  air  was  chill.  Overcoats  were  neces- 
sary for  our  comfort,  and  yet  in  the  early 
morning  Japanese  men  could  be  seen  darting 
out  of  the  bath-house,  their  nude  bodies  red 
as  boiled  lobsters,  and  carrying  their  kimonas 
on  their  arms,  they  would  run  down  the 
streets  to  their  homes  as  fast  as  their  legs 
could  carry  them. 

At  the  side  of  the  hotel  was  a  deep  ravine. 
Everywhere  the  hillsides  are  so  steep  that 
were  it  not  for  the  dense  tangle  of  scrub  bam- 
boo their  sides  would  wash  into  the  valleys. 
Springs  gushed  from  the  hillsides  and  bab- 
bling waters  could  be  heard  day  and  night. 
In  the  ravine  was  a  brawling  brook.  Its 
course  could  be  traced  from  far  up  the  moun- 
tain side.  The  gleaming  foam  of  the  tor- 
rent, like  a  silver  thread,  was  woven  in  and 


48  Oriental  Rambles. 

out  among  the  rich  colors,  gold  and  bronze 
and  crimson,  of  the  autumnal  brocade. 
Down  across  the  ravine  the  steep  hill- 
side looked  like  a  mammoth  picture  in  a 
frame  of  pines  hung  against  the  sky,  so  lav- 
ishly were  the  colors  poured  upon  the  ver- 
dure. 

A  favorite  walk  was  up  the  ravine  to  the 
tea  house  of  the  gold  fish.  There  one  can 
drink  the  weak  tea  of  the  country  and  learn 
Japanese  from  the  dainty  musmees  who  serve 
it;  and  feed  little  cakes  to  the  gold  fish  in 
the  fountain.  This  is  said  to  have  been  a 
favorite  resort  of  Sir  Edwin  Arnold.  A 
more  poetical  spot  can  scarcely  be  imagined. 

In  chairs  slung  on  poles  and  carried  by 
coolies,  picnic  excursions  were  made  to 
charming  waterfalls,  and  to  Lake  Hakone 
from  which  a  good  view  was  obtained  of 
snow-capped  Fiji.  Crossing  the  lake  in 
sampans,  as  the  small  boats  are  called,  we 
were  met  by  another  set  of  carriers  who  car- 
ried us  back  to  Miyanoshita  via  "Hell." 

There  are  two  hells,  called  big  and  little. 
Little  hell  is  a  small  affair  of  sulphur  springs 
and  steam,  but  the  "Big  Hell"  is  a  terror. 
Here  a  volcano  must  come  very  near  the  sur- 
face. Over  acres  there  is  no  vegetation. 


On  the  Lid  of  a  Volcano.  49 

All  is  dreary  and  desolate;  birds  will  not  ap- 
proach it.  The  ground  is  a  hot  crust  and  re- 
sounds under  the  feet  with  a  hollow  sound 
and  a  disquieting  vibration.  Every  few  feet 
there  is  a  vent  through  which  comes  hissing, 
and  hot  from  the  caldron  below  sulphurous 
vapors,  which,  cooling  in  the  air,  turn  white 
and  deposit  cones  of  sulphur  like  miniature 
volcanoes.  This  sulphur  is  gathered  up,  and 
sold,  and  thus  even  "Hell"  pays  tribute  to 
this  thrifty  people. 

When  we  had  passed  this  inferno  and  re- 
sumed our  chairs  we  were  carried  by  these 
surefooted  mountaineers  rapidly  along  paths 
on  the  brink  of  cliffs,  and  across  mountain 
torrents  on  fallen  trees.  It  looked  danger- 
ous, but  having  passed  safely  through  the 
realms  of  Beelzebub,  what  else  was  there  that 
could  terrify  us. 

It  was  with  regret  that  we  said  "sayonara" 
to  the  smiling  and  bowing  "musmees"  who 
lined  up  at  the  hotel  door  to  bid  us  good- 
bye. The  air  was  clear,  the  morning  crisp, 
and  our  rikisha  men  fairly  galloped  with 
us  down  the  mountain  road  to  the  station 
with  the  unpronounceable  name,  where  we 
took  the  train  for  Kioto. 

The  journey  was  broken  by  a  day  at  Shid- 


5°  Oriental  Rambles. 

zuoka  and  another  at  Nagoya,  where  we  saw 
ancient  castles  and  temples.  When  we 
reached  the  comfortable  hotel  in  Kioto  we 
realized  with  regret  that  half  of  our  journey 
in  Japan  was  over. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

KIOTO IN  THE  HEART  OF  OLD  JAPAN. 

Kioto  was  the  capital  of  Japan  for  a  thou- 
sand years,  and  abounds  in  temples  and 
aristocracy.  We  had  been  advised  to  defer 
purchases  of  silks  and  embroideries  until  we 
reached  Kioto.  Our  guide  said  we  could  get 
there  "also  curios  more  antique." 

During  the  morning  we  roamed  about  old 
temples  and  gardens  and  castles.  In  the  af- 
ternoon we  rummaged  among  the  curio  shops 
and  silk  stores.  Such  beautiful  things  were 
temptations  too  strong  to  resist,  and  no  one 
should  resist,  for  trifles  in  Japan  become  art 
treasures  in  America. 

After  Nikko  there  is  not  much  to  be  said 
of  temples.  There  are  many  larger  but  none 
so  beautiful.  One  large  and  beautiful  tem- 
ple has  recently  been  completed  at  a  cost  of 
over  eight  million  dollars, — an  immense 
sum  in  this  country  where  the  people  are 
poor.  It  was  built  entirely  from  gifts  from 
the  people.  The  rich  gave  money  or  ma- 
terial; the  poor  gave  their  labor.  Women 
cut  off  their  hair  and  sent  it  to  be  woven  into 

51 


52  Oriental  Rambles. 

ropes  for  hoisting  materials.  Coils  of  this 
rope  are  preserved  as  relics.  This  seems  to 
contradict  the  statement  frequently  made 
that  the  old  religions  are  being  displaced  by 
Christianity. 

A  Buddhist  theological  seminary  connect- 
ed with  the  temple  of  Nishi  Hongwanji  is 
actually  preparing  students  to  be  sent  into 
Christian  countries  as  missionaries.  In  fact 
foreign  missions  are  already  established.  A 
priest  remarked,  "If  you  send  men  to  convert 
us,  why  should  we  not  pay  you  the  same  at- 
tention, as  we  know  our  religion  is  more 
ancient  and  logical  than  yours." 

I  wonder  if  Americans  would  be  as  toler- 
ant of  a  "Joss  House"  set  up  in  their  neigh- 
borhood and  making  an  energetic  campaign 
for  converts  as  these  Japanese,  or  even  the 
Chinese,  are  of  Christian  missions. 

The  temples  of  Shinto,  the  ancient  religion 
of  Japan,  are  exceedingly  simple.  Before 
each  stands  a  tori,  or  arch,  which  is  merely 
two  upright  posts  connected  by  two  beams  at 
the  top — the  upper  beam  curved  with  the  con- 
cavity upward.  Tassels  of  rice  straw  deco- 
rate it.  The  temple  itself  is  merely  a  pavil- 
ion. There  is  a  contribution  box,  a  bell  and 
a  mirror.  The  worshiper  enters  the  temple. 


Buddhist  and  Shinto  Temples.         53 

tosses  a  contribution  into  the  box,  strikes  the 
gong  to  ring  up  the  Gods,  and  gazes  into  the 
mirror.  If  he  sees  no  sin  in  himself  then  he 
goes  his  way  in  peace,  but  if  in  this  self- 
examination  he  finds  error,  he  must  cor- 
rect it.  The  creed  is  exceedingly  simple,  the 
spirit  of  which  is,  honor  the  Emperor,  and 
your  parents  and  go  not  contrary  to  your  own 
conscience. 

The  earlier  wars  of  Japan  on  the  mainland 
of  Asia  were  not  conducted  on  the  humane 
principles  of  the  last.  A  mound  was  pointed 
out  to  us  in  which  were  buried  thousands  of 
ears  taken  from  slain  Coreans,  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty  years  ago.  Since  that  time 
Corea  has  lent  her  ears  when  Japan  gave  ad- 
vice. Lending  is  better  than  losing. 

It  was  Russia's  attempt  to  gather  in  Corea 
that  sent  Japan  grappling  at  the  throat  of 
the  giant  bear — a  bear  which  kills  its  own 
cubs. 

There  is  an  interesting  trip  to  Lake  Biwa 
to  see  the  giant  pine  tree  with  branches  two 
hundred  and  eighty  feet  long  which  need  to 
be  supported  to  prevent  their  breaking  down. 
Its  trunk  is  about  forty  feet  around,  but  it  is 
only  a  hundred  feet  high.  It  seems  to  have 
run  to  width  like  an  alderman. 


54  Oriental  Rambles. 

A  ride  down  the  rapids  of  Katsuragawa  is 
an  exciting  experience.  It  is  a  thirteen  mile 
"shoot  the  shutes"  with  curves  and  rocks  and 
other  dangers  in  the  mountain  passes.  The 
guide  said  dragons  had  been  seen  in  the  dark 
places.  (A  dragon  is  a  sort  of  a  lobster. 
It  appears  in  dreams  after  welsh  rarebit  sup- 
pers. ) 

Kioto  is  a  good  place  to  go  to  theatres, 
music  halls,  wrestling  matches,  dinners  and 
other  dissipations.  We  saw  a  tragedy  and 
enjoyed  it.  Imagine  a  tragedian  strutting 
about  the  stage  with  a  candle  on  the  end  of  a 
stick  held  in  front  of  his  face  that  the  audi- 
ence may  see  his  terrible  grimaces.  The 
super  who  holds  the  candle  is  invisible.  You 
know  he  is  invisible  because  he  wears  a  sign 
that  says  so. 

The  Japanese  have  no  idea  of  stage  light- 
ing. They  have  no  footlights,  side,  top  or 
spot  lights,  but  hang  candles,  lanterns  and 
electric  arc  lights  in  a  jumble  in  front  of  the 
stage,  an  arrangement  which  both  lights  the 
stage  and  blinds  the  audience.  However, 
for  bona  fide  melodrama,  with  villains  in  all 
their  fifty-seven  varieties,  helpless  females, 
and  dashing  heroes,  the  Japanese  brand  is 
hard  to  beat. 


Theatres  and  Music  Halls.  55 

At  the  music  hall  may  be  seen  some  very 
picturesque  dancing.  Some  of  the  classical 
descriptive  dances  are  pleasing  and  artistic, 
but  the  music, — the  squeaky,  screechy  mu- 
sic,— how  can  it  be  described?  Phil,  the 
Philosopher,  says  he  now  comprehends  why 
the  Buddhist  longs  for  Nirvana,  the  calm  of 
perfect  rest. 

In  this  music  hall  there  was  a  ladies'  or- 
chestra. Their  seimsens  twanged  like  brok- 
en banjos,  their  tom-toms  thumped,  and  the 
shrieks  of  their  bamboo  flutes  tore  dreadful 
holes  in  the  atmosphere,  while  a  bevy  of 
pretty  musmees  sang,  or  rather  squeaked  like 
mice. 

The  dancing  is  of  the  kind  peculiar  to  the 
far  eastern  countries.  It  consists  of  a  series 
of  graceful  poses,  turning  of  the  hands  and 
arms,  coquetting  with  a  fan,  an  occasional 
rotation  of  the  body,  and  lifting  of  a  knee, 
with  the  foot  turned  in  and  the  great  toe 
erect  as  though  the  dancer  had  stepped  on  a 
tack.  The  last  position  indicates  mirth  and 
jollity. 


CHAPTER  X. 

OSAKA,   JAPANESE-ENGLISH,  AND  THE  KOBE 
ROOSTERS. 

Osaka  is  a  sort  of  Asiatic  Venice,  grid- 
ironed  as  it  is  with  canals,  but  instead  of  the 
tumble  down  palaces  of  a  worn  out  nobility 
there  are  the  factories  and  storehouses  of 
commercial  Japan. 

The  Japanese  have  two  classes  of  art 
goods;  one  for  the  Japanese,  and  on  that  they 
spend  an  incredible  amount  of  patient  and 
wonderfully  skillful  labor.  For  this  the 
Japanese  themselves  pay  good  prices.  The 
other  class  of  goods  is  for  "export  only." 
No  Japanese  would  tolerate  it.  This  is 
practically  the  only  class  of  Japanese  goods 
we  see  in  the  stores  in  America.  These 
goods  are  coarse  and  garish  with  gilt  and 
colors. 

In  the  loft  we  found  a  factory,  or  studio, 
for  modern  Satsuma  ware.  Here  artists, 
working  with  magnifying  glasses,  were  paint- 
ing miniature  scenes  and  figures  with  won- 
derful detail;  for  instance  one  artist  was 
painting  an  entire  religious  procession  with 


56 


Street  Signs.  57 

hundreds  of  figures  and  portraits  on  a  tiny 
vase,  no  larger  than  a  tea  cup.  This  would 
require  weeks  of  time,  and  the  price  would 
make  it  unsalable  in  Europe  or  America,  ex- 
cept perhaps  to  an  art  collector. 

There  is  an  ancient  fortress  in  Osaka  im- 
pregnable in  the  olden  times  of  bows,  arrows 
and  swords,  but  taken  easily  enough  now-a- 
days  even  by  a  tourist  with  a  camera.  It 
has  immense  walls,  some  stones  of  which  are 
forty  feet  long  by  twelve  feet  high  and  ten 
feet  thick.  Others  at  the  corners  of  the  gates 
are  twenty  feet  high,  veritable  cliffs  in  them- 
selves. Yet  they  were  brought  from  distant 
island  quarries  before  the  time  of  machin- 
ery. 

The  street  signs  in  Japanese-English  were 
a  constant  source  of  amusement.  The  Jap- 
anese is  a  good  imitator,  but  never  gets  it 
exact.  That  is  very  well  with  merchandise, 
but  with  the  English  language  it  is  ludicrous. 
The  Jap  who  has  learned  a  little  English  as- 
sumes that  he  knows  the  language  and  pro- 
ceeds to  mutilate  it  without  mercy.  Here  is 
a  shop  sign  in  Osaka : 


O.  KOMAI, 

Monoplist  of  Milk. 


58  Oriental  Rambles. 

Another  was   more   true   and  appropriate 
than  the  proprietor  probably  surmised: 


HERE  ONE  DOES  EUROPEANS, 
Curios,  things  encien. 


This  style  of  left  handed  English  is  not 
limited  to  the  small  shops.  I  have  a  recept- 
ed  bill  from  one  of  the  largest  silk  and  curio 
stores  in  Kioto  as  follows : 


"  2  hangings  I  got  from  artist  Kobun 
and  he  execute  by  orders  from  Prince 
Nabeshima." 


The  above  referred  to  two  painted  silk 
curtains  and  not  to  a  legal  execution  as  might 
be  inferred. 

My  camera  films  and  prints  came  back 
from  a  leading  photographer,  where  they 
had  been  sent  to  be  developed  and  printed. 
They  were  enclosed  in  an  envelope,  beauti- 
fully embossed  in  Japanese  characters,  and 
the  English  script  "potograph." 

At  a  rikisha  stand  the  tariff  of  charges  is 
explained  on  a  bulletin  in  the  following  lucid 
English : 


Picturesque  English.  59 


"The  rikisha  charge  is  by  two  man  for  to 
go  up  one  yen  also  likewise  for  to  come  down. 
By  night  and  if  storm  more  is  double." 


At  Kobe  we  went  to  see  the  peculiar  Jap- 
anese roosters  which  grow  tail  feathers  fif- 
teen feet  long.  These  birds  conducted  them- 
selves with  great  dignity,  trailing  their  tails 
and  bestowing  as  much  care  in  their  manage- 
ment as  European  ladies  do  with  their  trains. 
Perhaps  this  is  the  original  phoenix  bird, 
which,  with  the  dragon,  figures  so  largely  in 
Japanese  and  Chinese  art. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THROUGH  THE  INLAND  SEA  TO  NAGASAKI. 
SAYONARA  TO  OLD  JAPAN. 

At  Kobe  we  took  steamer  and  sailed 
through  the  Inland  Sea  to  Nagasaki.  This 
is  a  most  delightful  voyage  suggestive  at 
times  of  the  Thousand  Islands  in  the  St. 
Lawrence,  Lake  George  or  Lake  Champlain, 
and  again  broadening  out  until  one  might 
fancy  he  was  sailing  the  waters  of  Puget 
Sound  until  an  approach  to  the  land  in  a  nar- 
row passage  brought  to  view  the  torii  and 
temples  that  are  unmistakably  Japanese. 
But  the  shipping  does  not  let  one  forget  it  is 
Japan.  The  high-sterned  junks  with  their 
square  sails  bring  to  mind  the  childhood  sto- 
ries of  the  "blood-thirsty  pirates  that  scour 
the  southern  seas." 

As  we  neared  Nagasaki  we  passed  pictur- 
esque islands  and  rugged  headlands.  One 
sheer  cliff  projecting  into  the  sea  is  called 
Pappenburg  Rock.  Over  it  were  hurled 
thousands  of  native  Christians,  converts  of 
the  Portuguese  and  Spanish  Jesuits,  four  hun- 
dred years  ago.  At  that  time  Japan  had 

60 


Early  Christianity  in  Japan.  61 

more  than  a  million  Catholics  and  Catholi- 
cism was  growing  rapidly,  but  they  meddled 
in  politics  and  the  Shoguns  suspected  that 
it  was  the  intent  of  the  foreigners  to  reduce 
Japan  to  a  dependency  of  the  King  of  Spain, 
as  had  been  done  with  the  Philippines  and 
other  countries.  Then  they  were  completely 
wiped  out,  and  the  country  closed  to  foreign 
relations.  It  remained  so  until  the  year 
eighteen  hundred  and  fifty-four,  when  Perry 
negotiated  the  famous  epoch-making  treaty 
of  amity  and  commerce  with  the  United 
States. 

The  harbor  of  Nagasaki  is  the  most  pictur- 
esque in  all  Japan,  its  encircling  hill  being  ter- 
raced and  set  with  temples. 

As  soon  as  our  ship  had  anchored,  we  were 
surrounded  by  a  flotilla  of  coal  barges  on 
which  were  hundreds  of  chattering  women  in 
blue  cotton  kimonas.  The  barges  were 
quickly  lashed  to  the  side,  ladders  placed, 
and  the  little  women  passed  baskets  of  coal 
so  rapidly  from  hand  to  hand  that  it  fell  in 
a  steady  cataract  into  the  bunkers. 

We  hastened  on  shore  where  we  took  riki- 
shas  to  see  as  many  of  the  sights  as  the  few 
hours  stop-over  of  the  steamer  would  allow. 

At  first  we  went  to  the  temple  of  the 


62  Oriental  Rambles. 

Sacred  Horse.  Sacred  horses  are  common 
enough  but  bronze  ones  are  rare,  so  we 
climbed  the  hundreds  of  stone  steps  under 
many  torii  of  stone  and  bronze  to  the  Shinto 
Temple  at  the  top  of  the  hill. 

The  famed  bronze  horse  is  not  much  of  a 
success.  Japanese  horses  are  the  worst  in 
the  world,  but  this  is  an  unflattering  likeness. 
It  seems  to  have  a  little  hippopotamus  blood 
in  it.  In  an  adjoining  court  there  is  a  real 
live  sacred  horse.  It  is  an  albino,  with  weak, 
watery  eyes,  mangy  coat  and  a  generally  dis- 
reputable and  unsanctified  appearance. 

Nearby  is  a  tree  planted  by  General  Grant 
and  the  house  built  for  his  entertainment. 
Japan  spared  no  expense  in  the  honor  of  the 
Great  American.  His  remark  at  the  sacred 
bridge  at  Nikko  was  only  one  of  the  ways 
by  which  he  endeared  himself  to  the  Japan- 
ese people. 

After  luncheon  we  visited  the  "Tea  House 
of  the  Garden  of  Flowers,"  made  famous  by 
Pierre  Loti  in  his  book  "Madame  Chrysan- 
themum." From  this  tea  house  there  was  a 
charming  panorama  of  forest-clad  hills  al- 
most surrounding  the  harbor,  where  floated 
the  ships  of  many  nations.  The  city  was 
spread  out  like  a  map  below.  Beyond  the 


Farewell  to  Japan.  63 

harbor  entrance  were  islands  studding  the 
bay,  and  stretching  away  to  the  western  hori- 
zon were  the  blue  waters  of  the  China  Sea. 

As  we  sailed  out  of  the  harbor,  bound  for 
Shanghai,  the  sunset  was  draping  the  hills 
with  golden  brown  in  the  sunlit  ridges,  and 
misty  purple  in  the  shadowy  ravines. 

Into  the  west  we  sailed,  into  a  sea  of  gold, 
and  silver,  and  turquois.  The  sweet  re- 
verberations of  the  bell  of  a  distant  hillside 
temple  came  to  us  over  the  waters,  lingering 
in  the  air,  and  causing  a  pang  of  sadness,  a 
sigh  of  regret  that  we  were  at  last  parting, 
perhaps  forever,  with  dear  old  Japan. 

There  are  many  things,  dear  old  Japan,  of 
which  we  may  have  complained  unjustly  or 
treated  too  lightly,  but  your  people  are  a 
kind,  courteous  and  pleasant  people.  Your 
most  cruel  sports  are  top-spinning  and  kite- 
flying.  Your  vocabularly  is  complete  with- 
out profanity.  You  torture  trees  into  dwarf 
and  grotesque  shapes,  but  you  make  no  dis- 
tortion of  the  human  body.  You  see  no 
evil  in  nature's  laws.  Your  list  of  mortal 
sins  is  not  so  long  that  you  are  forever  sad 
with  the  contemplation  of  them.  You  go 
through  life  laughing  and  bowing.  You 
sec  beauty  in  the  flight  of  the  stork,  a  sermon 


64  Oriental  Rambles. 

in    the    pine    tree    and    a    poem    in    every 
blossom. 

Sayonara  rikishas;  Sayonara,  tea  houses, 
with  the  saffron  colored  tea;  Sayonara, 
geishas,  and  musmees.  May  we  meet  again 
when  the  wistaria's  radiant  clusters  beckon 
from  the  trellis,  and  the  cherry  blossoms 
come. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

SHANGHAI,  OLD  AND  NEW. 

On  the  morning  of  the  second  day  we 
awoke  to  find  the  ship  anchored  in  the  mud- 
dy waters  of  the  Yang-tse  River  at  Woo 
Sung.  Low  lying  mud  banks  were  visible 
far  away  on  each  side. 

Native  boats  clustered  around  from  one 
of  which  an  ancient  Chinaman  in  a  wadded 
jacket  climbed  over  the  side.  He  sat  down 
on  the  deck  unceremoniously,  and  proceeded 
to  take  from  his  mouth  and  ears  a  surprising 
quantity  of  paraphernalia  with  which  he  per- 
formed many  mystifying  tricks  of  slight  of 
hand.  The  things  he  could  do  with  a  whip 
and  top  seemed  to  upset  all  laws  of  gravita- 
tion. After  this  he  set  himself  on  fire  inside. 
Flames  and  smoke  poured  from  his  mouth. 
He  belched  fire  like  a  volcano.  Then  he 
drew  forth  great  quantities  of  curled  papers, 
and  finally  a  huge  bunch  of  firecrackers  just 
in  time  to  have  them  explode  on  the  outside. 
What  would  have  happened  if  they  had  ex- 
ploded on  the  inside  is  fearful  to  contem- 
plate. Before  he  had  passed  his  cap  all  the 

05 


66  Oriental  Rambles. 

way  round  a  ship  officer  came  along  and 
John  did  a  quick  disappearing  act  over  the 
side. 

Descending  the  ship  ladder  we  boarded  a 
river  tug  that  took  us  up  the  river  eighteen 
miles  to  Shanghai.  On  the  way  we  passed 
many  Chinese  junks,  high  in  bow  and  stern, 
low  amidship,  their  red  or  brown  square  sails 
crossbarred  with  bamboo  poles.  A  huge 
eye  is  always  painted  on  each  side  of  Chinese 
boats,  for,  as  they  say:  "Junk  no  have  eye, 
no  can  see,  no  can  see,  no  can  sabe,  no  can 
sabe,  no  can  go." 

As  we  neared  Shanghai,  smoke  stacks, 
factories  and  ship-yards  could  be  seen  giving 
evidence  of  the  modernization  of  China. 
When  we  reached  the  landing  stage  and  took 
carriages  and  drove  along  the  bund  to  "The 
Astor  House"  we  realized  we  were  in  an  im- 
portant commercial  metropolis  of  the  Euro- 
pean kind.  On  the  left  were  substantial 
stone  business  blocks  four  or  five  stories 
high,  while  on  the  right  was  a  pretty  park 
sloping  to  the  river  which  was  swarming 
with  steamers,  junks  and  small  boats. 

The  street  was  thronged.  In  and  out 
among  the  carriages  of  the  Europeans 
passed  a  multitude  of  Asiatics,  Repulsive, 


The  National  Vehicle.  67 

ragged  arid  indescribably  dirty,  most  of  them 
were.  Coolies  trotted  along  drawing  the 
adopted  Japanese  rikisha;  others  were 
carrying  immense  weights  balanced  on  poles; 
while  others  trundled  the  national  convey- 
ance, the  wheelbarrow. 

This  barrow  has  a  large  wheel  with  a 
bench  on  each  side  for  passengers  or  freight. 
The  most  surprising  burdens  are  carried  on 
this  vehicle.  It  is  not  unusual  to  see  a  per- 
spiring, mud-bespattered  coolie  staggering 
along  with  four  fat  and  sleek  Chinamen  on 
his  vehicle.  Sometimes  the  whole  family 
will  be  along.  "Mommer"  on  one  side  in  a 
purple  silk  coat,  her  small  feet  in  pale  blue 
satin  slippers  peeping  out  from  dark  blue  bi- 
furcated skirts,  and  her  black  hair  correctly 
glued  into  puffs  and  wings;  while  with  her 
arms  which  are  adorned  with  jade  bracelets, 
she  holds  her  moon-faced  offspring  from  fall- 
ing into  the  mud.  On  the  opposite  side  will  be 
"Popper"  and  the  rest  of  the  family,  with 
the  marketing  of  vegetables,  pigs  and  fowls, 
dead  or  alive. 

The  natives  of  northern  China  are  large, 
well  built  and  muscular.  The  Chinamen  in 
America  are  the  small  men  of  southern  China, 
and  nearly  all  from  the  one  city  of  Canton, 


68  Oriental  Rambles. 

European  Shanghai  has  been  built  within 
the  last  sixty  years  on  land  granted  as  a  con- 
cession to  foreign  nations  for  commercial 
purposes  outside  the  Chinese  city.  The  Eng- 
lish and  French  have  their  own  sections, 
their  own  police,  and  courts. 

The  English  "bobby"  looks  as  though  he 
had  just  stepped  out  of  the  Strand.  The 
Chinese  officer's  uniform  is  a  compromise. 
The  middle  part  is  in  European  style,  but 
he  wears  Chinese  boots  and  a  funnel-shaped 
tin  hat  with  a  tassel.  The  Indian  police  are 
the  most  picturesque.  They  are  tall  and 
slender,  and  at  the  top  they  have  eighteen 
inches  or  more  of  turkey  red  turban,  won- 
derfully and  fearfully  made.  They  also  have 
good  durable  complexions,  dreamy  brown 
eyes  and  fierce  black  whiskers  carefully  part- 
ed in  the  middle. 

After  several  efforts  we  secured  a  guide 
who  knew  at  one  and  at  the  same  time  some- 
thing of  English  and  something  of  the  town. 
We  then  invaded  the  old  walled  city  of  the 
Chinese  quarter.  As  soon  as  we  penetrated 
the  tunnel-like  gateway  we  realized  we  were 
in  the  real  China.  On  each  side  lay  beggars, 
derelicts  of  humanity,  in  every  stage  of  de- 
formity and  distress,  As  we  traversed  the 


Street  Scenes.  69 

streets,  many  of  which  are  only  four  feet 
wide,  in  which  the  sun  cannot  penetrate,  we 
remembered  the  Japanese  remark,  "The 
Chinese  are  the  dirtiest  people  in  the  world 
except  the  Russians." 

We  passed  the  open  booths  of  the  jade 
cutters,  and  comb  makers.  Then  the  guide 
plunged  through  a  dark  passage,  and  we  fol- 
lowed single  file,  Chinese  fashion,  through 
crooked  corridors  and  alleys  misty  with  the 
weight  of  the  forty-seven  original  stinks, 
and  emerged  into  an  open  court. 

Here  were  arranged  in  rows  earthen  cal- 
drons containing  water  in  various  stages  of 
green  stagnation  in  which  were  swimming 
Chinese  gold  fish  in  assorted  sizes,  and  vari- 
ous styles.  Each  fish  had  several  tails  of 
flowing  pink  chiffon  with  ruffles  around  the 
borders  caught  up  at  the  sides  with  red  fins. 
When  they  swam  across  the  tank  their  gauzy 
tails  trailed  out  behind  in  a  way  that  was 
"just  too  lovely  for  anything,"  as  the  dress- 
makers would  say. 

Guide  said,  "Suppose  Mellican  man  likee 
put  clean  water?  Then  kille  fish;  China  fish 
no  likee  clean  water." 

"Must  be  the  same  with  the  men,"  the 
Philosopher  remarked.  "Cleanliness  might 


7°  Oriental  Rambles. 

kill  them,  but  if  dirt  gives  health  they'll  never 
die." 

We  passed  on  traversing  a  street  bordered 
on  one  side  by  shops  and  restaurants,  and  on 
the  other  by  what  might  at  one  time  have 
been  a  small  canal,  but  which  was  nearly 
filled  with  slimy  filth  on  the  surface  of  which 
meandered  a  tiny  stream  that  was  liquid 
enough  to  flow.  Every  stone  in  the  street 
was  slippery  and  sodden  with  ooze,  and  the 
stench,  the  awful  stench!  Oh,  that  a  kind 
providence,  in  pity  and  charity,  had  granted 
us  a  cold  in  China.  The  memory  of  it  lin- 
gers, but  not  by  request. 

The  "Odors  of  Cathay"  at  their  best  are 
sandal  wood,  burning  punk,  and  opium;  but 
alas,  there  are  other  odors  peculiarly  Chi- 
nese before  which  the  strongest  English 
language  is  as  helpless  as  the  prattle  of  an  in- 
fant. They  combine  into  a  terrifying  ag- 
gregation of  stinks,  to  which  Perfume  de 
Polecat  would  be  as  Attar  of  Roses. 

At  last  we  reached  the  celebrated  Man- 
darin Gardens,  and  passing  through  an 
elaborate  stucco  archway,  found  ourselves 
standing  by  a  lily  pond  with  banks  of  grass 
and  flowers.  It  was  a  relief.  We  filled  our 
lungs  with  the  fresh  air  and  looked  about. 


The  Odors  of  Cathay.  71 

The  Garden  is  enclosed  by  a  wall  support- 
ing the  elongated  and  undulated  body  of  a 
dragon.  Its  terra  cotta  head  is  reared  in 
terrifying  ferocity  at  one  side  of  the  gate- 
way, while  its  body  encircles  the  garden,  and 
its  tail  is  warningly  uplifted  at  the  other  side 
of  the  gate.  Its  body  is  formed  of  half  cir- 
cles of  terra  cotta  roof  tiles  laid  with  the 
convexity  upward,  each  tier  resting  its  edges 
on  the  tops  of  the  curves  of  the  tiles  beneath; 
an  arrangement  which  gives  the  effect  of 
scales  to  this  uncanny  creature. 

In  the  few  acres  enclosed  by  this  wall  are 
all  the  types  of  rustic  scenery.  There  are 
ranges  of  mountains  fifty  feet  high  with  pa- 
godas on  their  summits  where  one  can  drink 
tea.  There  are  cool  caves,  and  shady  nooks, 
and  tiny  brooks  with  crescent  bridges. 

There  is  a  little  lake  bordered  by  willow 
trees,  and  in  its  center  is  a  many-gabled,  two 
storied  pagoda  supported  on  posts.  A  zigzag 
walk,  also  supported  by  posts,  leads  to  it, 
and  on  it  stood  Chinese  women  looking  at 
the  lilies.  The  picture  seemed  strangely 
familiar.  Where  had  I  seen  it  before?  Ah, 
yes !  the  plates,  the  old  blue  willow-pattern 
ware !  The  picture  might  have  stepped  off 
my  Grandmother's  platter. 


72  Oriental  Rambles. 

In  the  afternoon  we  drove  out  the  Bub- 
bling Well  Road,  and  through  the  Euro- 
pean concession,  and  found  it  clean  and  un- 
asiatic.  In  a  Chinese  garden  we  had  tea 
and  confections,  and  saw  a  native  theatrical 
performance.  This  consisted  of  a  deafening 
clash  of  cymbals,  a  rattle  of  wooden  clap- 
pers, and  an  unearthly  shrieking  of  Chinese 
fiddles,  and  a  tiresome,  lazy  dance  by  children 
in  spangled  garments,  and  old  men's  masks. 

We  observed  that  at  each  place  where  a 
fee  was  required  there  was  a  terrific  war  of 
words  between  our  guide,  and  the  doorkeep- 
er. We  learned  it  was  about  the  amount  of 
extra  "squeeze"  which  the  doorkeeper  was 
to  collect  from  us,  and  the  commission  which 
he  should  pay  our  guide.  China  is  the  land 
of  "squeeze,"  and  such  transactions  are  only 
the  regular  routine  of  business.  After  a 
particularly  violent  wordy  battle  with  a  gate 
keeper,  which  resulted  in  the  guide  reluctant- 
ly parting  with  one  of  the  two  Mexican  dol- 
lars, which  he  had  extorted  from  us,  he 
angrily  declared,  "Chinaman  heap  big  fool; 
him  catchee  one  dollar, — wanchee  two;  him 
catchee  two  dollar, — wanchee  four." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

HONG  KONG. 

We  sailed  down  the  China  Sea  in  a  calm. 
The  China  Sea  is  not  always  calm.  There 
had  been  a  shipwreck  not  long  before,  and 
when  we  passed  the  region  where  it  occurred 
the  Chinese,  of  whom  there  were  hundreds 
in  the  steerage,  held  some  sort  of  a  religious 
ceremony.  They  burned  reams  of  red  paper 
on  which  prayers  were  written,  and  threw 
them  burning  overboard  to  be  scattered  by 
the  wind.  Various  foods  were  thrown  into 
the  sea.  By  this  means  they  appeased  the 
dragons  of  the  air,  and  honored  the  spirits 
of  their  countrymen  who  had  perished  in 
the  shipwreck. 

On  the  third  morning  we  steamed  up  the 
channel  with  the  rugged  island  of  Hong 
Kong  on  the  left  and  the  rocky  Chinese 
mainland  on  the  right,  and  anchored  in  the 
harbor  of  Hong  Kong.  About  us  were  war 
ships  and  merchantmen  of  many  nations, 
for  this,  the  best  harbor  of  Asia  is  foremost 
in  the  amount  of  shipping,  and  one  of  the 
busiest  ports  in  the  world. 

73 


74  Oriental  Rambles. 

The  city  is  hung  on  a  steep  hillside  which 
gets  steeper  and  steeper  until  it  reaches  the 
rocky  "Peak"  eighteen  hundred  feet  high. 
Up  this  incline  runs  a  cable  road  to  the  ob- 
servatory and  signal  station  at  the  top.  In 
Hong  Kong  the  social  status  corresponds 
with  the  altitude.  "High  Society"  occupies 
the  pretentious  bungalows  surrounded  by 
spacious  grounds  on  the  upper  roads  and  ter- 
races, while  "Low  Society"  crowds  the  slums 
at  the  water  front.  As  people  become 
richer  they  move  higher. 

The  buildings  are  of  stone  with  arcades 
on  each  floor  to  temper  the  heat  which  even 
in  winter  is  extreme,  at  least  in  the  sun. 

Rikisha  rides  on  the  fine  macadamized 
drives  which  belt  the  hill  on  three  different 
levels  are  very  interesting.  One  of  these 
roads  is  constructed  over  the  main  canal  of 
the  water  work  system.  Bordering  the  roads 
are  charming  villas  perched  on  dizzy  emi- 
nences, or  embowered  among  tropical  shrubs 
and  flowering  plants. 

A  ride  up  the  cable  inclined  road  is,  to  say 
the  least,  elevating.  As  the  car  ascends  a  pano- 
rama of  city,  harbor  and  shipping  is  spread  be- 
fore, or  rather  behind,  like  a  scroll  unrolled. 
It  is  like  going  up  in  a  captive  balloon. 


Hong  Kong.  75 

It  is  only  about  seventy  years  since  the  is- 
land became  a  British  colony.  During  that 
time  the  English  have  done  much  for  Hong 
Kong,  but  Hong  Kong  has  done  much  more 
for  the  English,  forming  as  it  does  the  key- 
stone of  their  arch  of  trade  and  influence  in 
the  far  East.  There  is  a  rapidly  increasing 
trade  with  the  Philippines,  and  now  that  the 
Americans  have  dropped  an  oar  into  the 
Eastern  Sea  the  Yankees  of  Manila  feel 
quite  neighborly  with  the  Britishers  of  Hong 
Kong. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

CANTON   AND   THE    CANTONESE. 

By  taking  the  evening  boat  from  Hong 
Kong  one  may  reach  Canton  early  the  next 
morning.  The  voyage  up  the  bay  in  the 
balmy  air  and  sunset  glow  of  Southern  China 
is  a  voyage  long  to  be  remembered.  When, 
at  length,  the  lights  have  faded  in  the  west, 
and  the  timid  stars  peep  out  from  the  purple 
of  the  heavenly  vault,  and  the  darkening 
shadows  of  evening  permit  only  the  horizon 
line  to  mark  itself  against  the  sky,  there 
arises  another  light,  more  mysterious,  more 
weird,  and  more  fascinating.  Flecks  of  pale 
blue  light  cap  the  breaking  crests  of  the 
steamer's  wash  and  glimmer  in  the  wake. 
The  ruffling  waves  that  break  from  the  prow 
flash  into  fire,  and  outline  the  dark  hull  of 
the  ship  in  a  glowing  frame.  This  is  the 
phosphorescent  sea. 

The  next  morning  at  day-break  we  were 
awakened  by  a  chattering  like  a  thousand 
magpies.  The  boat  was  moored  to  the 
dock  at  Canton  and  myriads  of  Chinese  were 
in  view.  The  dock  swarmed  with  them. 

78 


The  Phosphorescent  Sea.  77 

The  river  was  crowded  with  their  boats. 
We  went  ashore,  mounted  sedan  chairs,  and 
were  carried  by  coolies  to  the  hotel  on  Sha- 
meen  Island,  the  foreign  concession  on  which 
are  located  the  European  consulates,  resi- 
dences and  hotels.  This  island  is  connected 
with  the  native  city  by  a  bridge  protected 
with  massive  fortified  gates  and  guarded  by 
soldiers. 

After  breakfast  we  began  our  two  days' 
sight  seeing.  Coolie  chairs  afford  the  only 
means  of  rapid  transit  in  Canton.  Journeys 
about  the  city  are  not  long,  for  the  popula- 
tion of  nearly  two  millions  is  crowded  into 
an  area  of  only  two  miles  by  four.  The 
streets  are  perhaps  ten  feet  wide.  The 
buildings  are  two  to  five  stories  high.  The 
narrow  chink  of  sky  that  otherwise  would  be 
visible  is  obscured  by  innumerable  awnings, 
and  black  signs  painted  with  red  or  gold 
characters  hanging  across  the  street;  and  by 
all  manner  of  laundries  and  sundries  hang- 
ing from  the  windows.  Chairs  must  be  car- 
ried single  file,  and  turning  can  only  be  done 
at  the  street  crossings.  The  streets  are  clean- 
er and  odors  less  athletic  than  in  Shanghai, 
although  if  I  had  seen  Canton  first  I  would 
not  have  believed  a  dirtier  place  could  exist 


78  Oriental  Rambles. 

The  shops  are  open  to  the  street  and  all 
kinds  of  queer  foods  are  exposed  for  sale. 
All  manner  of  strange  fish,  birds,  beasts  and 
reptiles  seem  to  be  represented,  trussed  on 
sticks,  dried,  smoked  and  apparently  var- 
nished. I  saw  several  small  animals  in  that 
condition,  and  from  their  very  long  tails  by 
which  they  were  hung  up,  I  concluded  they 
were  not  rabbits. 

It  is  a  short  ride  to  the  Examination  Hall. 
China  is  the  originator  of  the  State  examin- 
ation system.  Practically  all  Chinese  are 
eligible  to  enter  these  examinations.  Philoso- 
phy and  literature  are  the  principal  subjects. 
On  passing  the  lower  grades  one  becomes 
eligible  for  minor  political  positions.  If  he 
desires  higher  appointment  he  may  enter 
higher  examinations,  and  if  he  passes  the 
highest  examination  he  becomes  eligible  for 
appointment  as  Mandarin  of  the  first  class 
or  even  for  Viceroy.  These  examinations 
are  said  to  be  impartially  conducted  by  gov- 
ernment officials. 

One  would  not  suspect  the  destiny  of  the 
most  populous  empire  in  the  world  could  be 
influenced  by  such  an  unprepossessing  insti- 
tution. After  passing  an  entrance  gate  we 
crossed  a  barren  court  populated  by  pigs, 


Chinese  Fortune  Tellers.  79 

dogs  and  children  equally  dirty.  We  passed 
up  a  stone  walk  covered  with  a  roof  of  trans- 
lucent sea  shells  to  a  central  temple  stacked 
with  boards  used  in  making  seats  and  tables 
required  in  the  examinations.  From  this 
temple,  walks  lead  to  the  twelve  thousand 
individual  cells  in  which  the  students  are 
locked  for  the  two  days  and  nights  allotted 
for  the  completion  of  their  essays  or  poems; 
for  the  examinations  are  on  literature  and 
not  on  the  sciences.  These  cells  are  only 
about  five  and  one-half  by  four  feet — rather 
cramped  quarters  in  which  to  spend  forty- 
eight  continuous  hours,  for  an  American,  but 
a  whole  recreation  park  for  the  over-crowded 
Cantonese. 

One  of  the  curious  temples  we  visited  is 
known  by  the  cheerful  name  of  the  "Temple 
of  Horrors"  because  in  side-chapels  are  de- 
picted the  different  varieties  of  punishment 
to  be  expected  in  the  Chinese  Hell.  It  was 
much  like  the  chamber  of  horrors  in  the 
"Eden  Musee"  in  New  York  or  "The  Wax 
Works"  in  London.  The  figures  are  in  wax, 
life  size,  and  vividly  painted.  They  are 
supposed  to  frighten  the  people  into  being 
very,  very  good.  Among  the  tortures  repre- 
sented are  unhappy  Chinamen  being  boiled 


80  Oriental  Rambles. 

in  oil,  sawed  between  boards  and  crushed 
under  a  bell.  The  one  who  was  being  skinned 
alive  was  perhaps  guilty  of  grafting.  This 
is  a  popular  temple  on  account  of  its  many 
devils.  The  Chinese  pantheon  is  composed 
of  numerous  devils,  and  they  are  all  bad. 
If  there  are  any  good  devils,  they  are  shame- 
fully neglected,  for  the  Chinese  cannot  un- 
derstand why  good  Joss  sticks  and  fire-crack- 
ers should  be  wasted  on  a  God  who  would  not 
harm  them. 

The  court-yard  is  well  occupied  by  for- 
tune tellers,  who  will  tell  you  "welly  good 
luck  fortune  welly,  welly  cheap,"  but  for  a 
little  more  they  will  tell  you  something  im- 
portant that  you  "really  should  know." 
The  way  they  jerk  aside  the  curtain  of  the 
future  is  by  burning  strips  of  gilt,  or  silvered 
paper,  and  observing  how  the  ashes  fall. 
Of  course  "money  must  cross  the  palm"  be- 
fore the  charms  will  work.  I  believe  this 
is  true  of  the  cult  in  all  countries. 

As  we  proceeded  through  the  narrow 
streets  our  carriers  gave  warning  of  our  ap- 
proach by  peculiar  cries.  Foot  travelers  and 
coolies  carrying  burdens  flattened  themselves 
against  the  walls  to  make  room  for  the 
"foreign  devils."  But  there  came  a  time 


A  Mandarin' s  Pompous  Procession.     81 

when  the  clash  of  gongs  approaching  caused 
our  guide  to  reverse  the  order.  Our  little 
caravan  halted  and  the  carriers  crowded  our 
chairs  against  the  wall.  A  great  Mandarin 
was  approaching  and  he  must  have  the  right 
of  way.  We  straightened  ourselves  in  our 
chairs,  and  full  of  expectancy,  awaited  the 
great  man.  The  clash  of  brass  drew  nearer 
and  there  appeared  between  the  rows  of 
celestials  that  lined  the  walls  a  most  ridicu- 
lous retinue. 

When  a  Mandarin  travels  it  must  be  with 
great  pomp,  surrounded  by  his  servants  and 
armed  retainers,  but  such  a  large  retinue 
costs  money  even  in  China;  so  instead  of 
keeping  the  men  he  keeps  their  uniforms  and 
when  he  wishes  to  travel  across  the  city 
sends  his  servants  into  the  streets  to  impress 
into  his  service  any  vagabonds  on  whom 
violent  hands  may  be  laid.  This  "round  up" 
was  a  sorrv  looking  lot.  There  were  perhaps 
fifteen  in  the  straggling  procession  and  three 
or  four  uniforms  did  duty  in  sections  for 
the  entire  army. 

First  came  a  man,  resplendent  in  a  red 
cotton  jacket,  carrving  a  red  banner  with 
black  characters  announcing  the  name  and 
degrees  of  the  approaching  dignitary.  Then 


8i  Oriental  Rambles. 

came  a  coolie  in  a  pagoda  hat  tied  on  with 
his  queue.  He  was  industriously  clashing 
large  brass  cymbals.  Behind  him  came  an- 
other belaboring  a  tom-tom  with  all  his 
might.  Then  came  a  fellow  wearing  the  re- 
mainder of  the  leading  man's  uniform.  He 
carried  aloft  a  mighty  two-storied,  red  cotton 
umbrella.  Then  came  the  regular  infantry 
consisting  of  two  men  carrying  rusty  flint- 
lock muskets.  Thus  preceded,  came  the 
chair  of  his  highness,  the  Mandarin, — sol- 
emn, dignified  and  owlish  in  immense  round 
goggles,  green  plush  jacket  and  cone-shaped 
hat  with  a  big  tassel  bobbing  from  the  top. 
Behind  him  came  the  cavalry  consisting  of 
two  men  on  shaggy  ponies,  and  last  of  all 
came  the  artillery  in  the  person  of  a  coolie 
staggering  under  the  weight  of  an  enormous 
flint-lock  musket  which  must  have  been 
twelve  feet  long.  It  was  rusty  and  dusty  and 
the  hammer  was  tied  on  with  a  conspicuous 
bit  of  Manilla  rope. 

The  procession  having  passed,  we  pro- 
ceeded on  our  way  through  Jade  Street  and 
Ivory  Carving  Street  to  the  Flowery  Pa- 
goda. Pagodas  are  the  only  characteristic 
monuments  of  Southern  China.  This  one 
is  familiar  to  every  school  boy,  for  it  adorns 


Chinese  Prisons.  83 

the  first  page  of  the  chapter  on  Asia  in  the 
geography,  along  with  the  elephant  of  In- 
dia, and  the  junks  of  Japan. 

No  Canton  guide  will  permit  his  tourist 
to  escape  seeing  the  execution  grounds  and 
the  prisons.  They  possess  a  gruesome  in- 
terest.  The  execution  ground  is  about  the 
size  of  a  dozen  city  lots,  and  is  usually  oc- 
cupied by  fresh  pottery  in  the  process  of 
drying.  When  wanted  for  official  purposes 
the  pottery  is  hurried  away. 

Criminals  condemned  to  die  do  not  know 
when  will  be  the  time  of  their  execution. 
They  are  confined  together  in  a  pen  and  may 
be  called  at  an  time.  Every  Mandarin,  or 
Judge,  must  witness  the  carrying  out  of  his 
own  capital  sentences.  Whenever  he  thinks 
it  a  good  day  for  executions  he  travels  to  the 
grounds  with  his  terrifying  procession,  and 
Hip  Hop  the  Highbinder,  or  Ping  Pong 
the  Pirate,  or  some  other  criminal  is  ordered 
to  be  brought  before  him. 

From  the  nearby  prison  the  culprit  is  car- 
ried securely  trussed  and  safely  crated  in  a 
wicker  cage.  He  is  made  to  kneel.  An  as- 
sistant holds  his  head  by  the  queue,  while  the 
Lord  High  Executioner  does  the  rest  with 
his  trusty  snicker-snee.  The  old  executioner 


84  Oriental  Rambles. 

showed  us  the  official  sword  used  in  thou- 
sands of  executions.  He  called  to  the  curi- 
ous street  crowd  that  had  followed  us,  that 
he  would  cut  some  one's  head  off  to  show  the 
foreigners  how  it  was  done,  whereupon  the 
crowd  fled  in  a  panic.  Their  terror  and 
precipitate  exit  seemed  such  a  good  joke  to 
the  old  executioner  that  he  chuckled  in 
ghoulish  glee.  We  consequently  saw  no  exe- 
cution, but  there  were  plenty  of  fresh  heads 
on  exhibition.  Nearby  is  the  cross  on  which 
the  cruel  sentence  of  cutting  in  a  thousand 
pieces  is  executed  as  an  extreme  punishment. 
In  the  adjoining  jail  prisoners  are  herded 
in  pens.  Some  are  loaded  with  chains,  some 
locked  in  wooden  boxes  so  small  that  they 
cannot  stand  or  straighten  their  legs,  and 
some  were  undergoing  the  punishment  of  the 
cangue.  This  is  a  wooden  collar  of  two  inch 
plank  about  three  feet  square.  When  it  is 
locked  on,  the  wearer  cannot  lie  down,  nor 
brush  from  his  face  the  flies  and  vermin  with 
which  the  jail  abounds,  nor  even  feed  him- 
self. If  friends  from  outside  or  other  pris- 
oners do  not  place  food  in  his  mouth  he 
will  starve.  Very  few  survive  the  punish- 
ment of  the  cangue  over  three  months.  The 
prisoners  seemed  to  bear  their  suffering  with 


Chinese  Prisons.  85 

stoical  indifference  and  some  even  with  grin- 
ning cheerfulness. 

We  were  glad  to  escape  the  gruesome 
sights  and  return  to  the  European  atmos- 
phere of  the  hotel  on  Shameen  Island. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  FLOWER  BOATS CHINESE  PUBLIC 

OPINION. 

In  the  evening  in  the  company  of  an  Eng- 
lish gentleman,  long  a  resident  of  Canton, 
we  visited  the  flower  boats.  The  flower 
boats  are  a  sort  of  Cantonese  Coney  Island. 
There  the  gilded  youths  and  giddy  old  boys 
of  Canton  disport  themselves  with  whatever 
is  the  Chinese  equivalent  for  wine,  women 
and  song.  In  this  case  it  appeared  to  be 
opium,  fan  tan,  and  chop  suey.  These  boats 
are  chained  together  and  visitors  walk  from 
one  to  the  other  to  see  the  different  forms  of 
Chinese  gaiety,  such  as  music  halls,  restau- 
rants, opium  dens,  gambling  establishments 
and  tea  houses.  The  only  dissipation  we  in- 
dulged in  was  tea  and  sweetmeats  served  by 
Chinese  maidens,  whose  smoothly-oiled 
raven  tresses  were  done  up  in  a  pad  over  the 
right  ear  and  ornamented  with  wonderful 
hair  pins  with  silk  and  tinsel  tassels.  The 
furnishings  were  gaudy  but  there  was  a  sub- 
stantial tone  added  by  the  heavy  black  teak 

wood,  carved  furniture  and  walls  inlaid  with 
86 


Chinese  Salutation.  87 

mother-of-pearl.  The  musicians,  or  rather 
the  noisicians,  were  ever  present.  The  beat 
of  the  tom-tom,  the  squeak  of  the  one- 
stringed  fiddle,  and  the  shriek  of  the  bamboo 
fife,  rent  our  ears  and  wounded  our  musical 
sensibilities. 

In  another  tea  house  we  had  an  unex- 
pected pleasure.  Our  English  friend  acci- 
dentally met  a  Chinese  diplomat  of  his  ac- 
quaintance. He  was  a  man  of  considerable 
importance  whose  name  is  so  top-heavy  with 
fame  it  would  not  do  to  mention  it  here. 
Our  friend  cautioned  us  not  to  offer  to  shake 
hands  wrhen  we  were  introduced  but  to  fol- 
low the  Chinese  custom  of  salutation. 

We  were  introduced  in  Chinese  and  of 
course  did  not  understand  a  word  our  friend 
was  saying  about  us,  but  the  Chinaman  who 
was  robed  in  resplendent  silks  smiled  like  a 
seraph,  bowed  low,  and  with  his  right  hand 
seized  his  left  hand  and  shook  it  cordially. 
We  did  the  same.  Through  an  interpreter 
he  said: 

"I  am  always  glad  to  meet  foreigners  and 
am  very  sorry  I  cannot  speak  English.  I 
am  now  too  old  to  learn  a  language,  but  my 
sons  speak  English  and  French.  I  have 
three  sons  and  they  are  all  in  Europe  being 


88  Oriental  Rambles. 

educated.  You  know  China  is  old  but  there 
is  a  new  China  arising." 

At  his  order,  there  had  been  placed  before 
us  on  the  teak  wood  table  bowls  of  tea  cov- 
ered with  saucers,  but  which  according  to 
the  Chinese  etiquette  were  not  to  be  drunk 
until  the  termination  of  the  interview.  He 
explained  the  many  varieties  of  the  tea 
enumerated  on  the  menu  card,  some  of  which 
were  very  rare,  expensive  and  never  export- 
ed, and  then  he  inquired: 

"Do  you  enjoy  our  music?" 

Our  English  friend  came  to  our  rescue  in 
this  dilemma  and  admitted  there  was  some 
disagreement  on  the  subject.  Of  course 
there  was  not,  for  we  were  unanimous  in 
the  opinion  that  it  is  a  nerve-racking  discord. 

"It  is  not  strange  you  do  not  appreciate 
it,"  said  the  diplomat  in  the  sing  song  in- 
tonation of  the  Chinese  language.  "China 
was  the  first  to  compose  and  write  music  and 
had  musical  conservatories  while  the  people 
of  Europe  were  still  chasing  rabbits  in  the 
stone  age.  We  have  the  advantage  of  sev- 
eral thousands  of  years  of  musical  culture. 
What  sounds  to  you  a  discord  is  to  us  the 
sweetest  harmony.  I  am  told  that  in  America 
and  Europe  people  who  are  uneducated  in 


The  Yellow  Music  Peril  89 

music  prefer  simple  tunes  and  primary  har- 
monies to  the  grand  music  of  Wagner.  Mu- 
sical culture  is  necessary  to  appreciate  your 
grand  opera  and  classical  music,  but  you 
must  be  educated  still  further  before  you  can 
be  expected  to  arrive  at  the  Chinese  type  of 


music." 


This  explanation  nearly  killed  the  Phi- 
losopher. With  such  a  yellow-music  peril 
confronting  us,  he  advocated  prohibition  of 
musical  conservatories,  and  high  license  on 
country  singing  classes. 

The  diplomat  smiled  at  us  through  his 
round  glasses  and  asked: 

"Have  you  been  well  treated  in  China?" 

"Oh  yes."  In  that  we  were  also  unani- 
mous. "We  have  been  very  well  treated  in- 
deed;" and  then  he  put  us  to  shame.  There 
was  sadness  and  reproach  in  his  voice  as  he 
replied: 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  Chinese  gentlemen 
who  travel  to  America  do  not  receive  the 
same  courtesy.  They  are  taken  from  their 
first-class  accommodations  and  thrown  into 
vile  prisons  at  immigration  stations  to  await 
the  red  tape  of  diplomatic  intervention. 
The  sons  of  our  Mandarins,  traveling  for 
pleasure  and  education,  have  been  treated  as 


90  Oriental  Rambles. 

coolie  laborers  and  sent  to  detention  pens. 
We  are  the  only  people  which  you  discrimi- 
nate against  on  account  of  their  nationality, 
and  yet  what  immigrants  do  you  admit  that 
are  more  law  abiding,  honest  and  hard  work- 
ing than  the  Chinese?  We  men  of  China 
consider  that  unfair,  and  since  we  do  not 
have  the  might  to  force  from  you  the 
rights  you  grant  to  other  nations  we  can  only 
resort  to  commercial  warfare,  the  boycott. 
We  bear  no  malice  to  you  as  individuals,  and 
shall  continue  to  treat  all  foreigners  with  kind- 
ness, or  indifference,  but  we  will  try  to  get 
along  without  your  cotton,  your  machinery, 
your  pocket  knives  with  six  blades  and  a 
cork  screw,  your  music  boxes,  your  whiskey 
and  other  agents  of  civilization." 

The  Philosopher  inquired,  "Do  you  ap- 
prove of  our  missionaries,  and  their  work  in 
China?" 

"I  have  a  high  regard  for  the  missionaries 
personally,  and  for  their  schools  and  hospi- 
tals, but  the  Chinese  would  prefer  to  go  to 
their  own  heaven  in  their  own  way.  Sup- 
pose they  should  have  the  same  experience 
when  they  reach  the  American  heaven  that 
they  have  when  they  reach  an  American 
port.  You  exclude  us  from  your  country  on 


The  Boycott.  91 

earth,  why  do  you  insist  on  driring  us  into 
your  heaven?  Will  our  company  be  more 
agreeable  there?"  And  he  smiled  again. 

We  assured  the  diplomat  that  he  had 
given  us  food  for  thought,  and  drinking  our 
tea  we  arose.  There  was  more  bowing  and 
smiling  and  shaking  of  our  own  hands;  then 
we  returned  to  our  boat.  As  we  were  being 
rowed  back  to  our  hotel,  the  Philosopher  ad- 
mitted that  this  Chinese  puzzle  is  still  far 
from  being  solved. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  TEMPLE  OF   HONAN HOW  THE  DEVILS 

ARE  IMPOSED  UPON. 

On  the  following  day  we  visited  among 
other  places,  the  temple  of  Five  and  Five 
Hundred  Genii  where  we  saw  an  image  of 
Marco  Polo,  in  company  with  those  of  the 
five  hundred  wise  disciples  of  Buddha — 
rather  a  distinguished  honor  to  be  given  the 
early  Italian  navigator. 

We  reached  the  famous  temple  of  Honan 
in  time  to  be  present  at  a  Buddhist  religious 
service.  It  was  strikingly  like  the  Christian 
service.  Kneeling  worshippers  responded 
in  unison  to  the  intonations  of  the  priests  in 
flowing  yellow  robes,  who  bowed  before  the 
figure  of  Buddha;  there  was  burning  incense, 
and  solemn  music.  Nothing  was  missing, 
not  even  the  collection. 

We  made  the  rounds  of  the  monastery, 
which  is  one  of  the  largest  in  Southern 
China.  We  saw  the  immense  caldron  where 
rice  is  cooked  for  thousands,  and  the  hollow 
log  on  which  the  cook  beats  a  tattoo  to  call 

08 


Bribing  the  Devils.  93 

the  priests,  who  come  with  their  bowls  to  re- 
ceive their  rations. 

We  were  shown  the  sacred  hogs,  who  de- 
vour the  food  the  devout  people  dedicate  to 
the  Gods,  that  is,  they  do  if  the  priests  give 
them  a  chance.  These  hogs  appeared  con- 
tented, and  meditative,  but  not  forgetful  of 
the  trough,  as  is  becoming  their  station,  and 
the  certain  knowledge  that  theirs  is  a  life 
appointment,  and  that  when  they  die,  they 
will  be  decently  buried  with  proper  cere- 
mony. 

The  priest  who  guided  us  did  not  seem  so 
near  Nirvana  as  his  porcine  associates,  for  he 
lusted  strongly,  after  the  carnal  gratification 
of  tobacco,  in  fact  he  reminded  us  of  his 
desire  several  times,  and  finally  with  suc- 
cess. 

As  we  were  being  carried  back  to  the 
hotel,  the  evening  burning  of  Joss  sticks  was 
progressing  before  each  shop.  The  air  was 
heavy  with  smoke,  and  vibrant  with  the  rat- 
tle of  exploding  fire-crackers.  In  a  niche  by 
the  entrance  to  each  building,  or  shop,  stands 
the  family  altar  with  its  lamp  ever  burning 
for  the  honor  of  the  ancestors,  and  the  pro- 
tection of  the  house  against  the  ever  present 
malevolent  spirits  of  the  air.  These  devils 


94  Oriental  Rambles. 

are  to  be  appeased  by  various  bribes  of 
money,  gold,  silver,  and  food,  and  fright- 
ened by  Joss  sticks,  and  fire-crackers.  But, 
alas,  the  commercial  spirit  of  the  Chinese  ex- 
tends even  into  their  religion,  for  spurious 
money,  gold  and  silver  made  of  gilt  paper 
and  tinsel,  is  burned  before  the  altars,  and 
the  food  offered  to  the  Gods  they  take  back 
and  eat. 

When  we  were  safely  taking  our  ease  on 
the  hotel  veranda  in  the  foreign  concession, 
we  heard  the  seven  o'clock  gun,  and  the  beat- 
ing of  the  tom-toms,  announcing  the  closing 
of  the  outer  wall  gates,  and  the  inner  gates 
that  subdivide  the  city  into  wards. 

While  the  ways  of  John  Chinaman  seem 
strange  to  us  we  should  remember  that  our 
ways  are  are  equally  strange  to  him,  and  per- 
haps equally  abhorent.  It  is  more  difficult 
to  place  ourself  at  the  viewpoint  of  others 
than  it  is  to  write  a  book  about  it. 

"  O,  wad  the  powers  some  giftie  gie  us 
To  see  oursel's  as  ithers  see  us." 

The  following  letter  written  by  a  Chi- 
nese tourist  traveling  for  pleasure  in  Ameri- 
ca, gives  the  Chinese  view  of  our  flaunted 
superior  civilization. 


.  As  We  Appear  to  the  Chinaman.        95 

"WALDORF  ASTORIA  HOTEL,  N.  Y. 
DEAR  CHIN  CHIN  : 

America  is  a  most  barbaric  country.  The  men  do  not 
shave  their  heads,  ears,  or  eyelids.  They  eat  meat  half 
raw,  still  dripping  blood,  tearing  it  apart  by  means  of  iron 
tools.  They  cannot  use  chop  sticks  and  can  only  afford 
rice  once  a  week. 

They  have  scarcely  any  respect  for  their  ancestors  and 
the  way  they  treat  their  women  is  simply  shocking.  They 
take  them  out  to  what  they  call  "Balls"  with  scarcely 
any  clothing  on  the  upper  part  of  their  bodies,  it  having 
mostly  slipped  down  so  it  drags  behind,  and  there  to 
simply  hellish  noise,  which  they  call  music,  they  wrestle 
their  women  all  over  the  floor  until  they  are  exhausted. 
Yours  indignantly, 

CHOP  SUEY." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE   EDUCATION  OF  CHINA. 

Confucianism  is  the  leading  religion  of 
China.  It  is  a  system  of  philosophy,  ethics 
and  morals  founded  by  Confucius  about  five 
hundred  years  before  Christ  and  a  hundred 
years  after  Buddhism  was  founded  in  India. 
Its  five  basic  precepts  are :  fidelity  to  the 
reigning  authority;  reverence  for  parents; 
submission  of  the  wife  to  the  husband;  obedi- 
ence of  younger  sons  and  daughters  to  the 
oldest  son;  and  the  duties  of  man  to  man, 
which  last  is  summed  up  in  their  golden  rule, 
"Do  not  do  unto  others  as  you  would  not 
have  them  do  unto  you."  One  of  his  five 
hundred  disciples  taught  that  good  should 
be  returned  for  evil,  but  Confucius  rebuked 
him  saying,  "What  then  will  you  return  for 
good?  Recompense  injury  with  justice,  and 
return  good  for  good." 

Whether  these  teachings  have  anything 
to  do  with  it  or  not,  it  is  a  fact  that  the  Chi- 
nese merchant  is  considered  absolutely  re- 
liable and  honest  in  all  business  transactions. 

06 


Chinese  Honesty.  97 

When  a  Chinese  merchant  says  "Can  do"  af- 
ter a  verbal  agreement,  the  European  trader 
knows  it  will  be  done  even  if  the  Chinaman 
loses  money.  He  drives  a  close  bargain,  but 
when  the  "Can  do"  is  passed,  his  word  will 
be  kept.  There  are  no  bankruptcies.  Debts 
do  not  outlaw.  A  failure  would  be  a  serious 
calamity,  for  the  entire  family  would  be  held 
liable  and  probably  heads  would  fall. 

As  we  steamed  down  the  Pearl  River  the 
next  day,  returning  to  Hong  Kong,  we 
passed  some  very  pretty  hill  scenery.  We 
observed  that  the  forts  China  has  construct- 
ed to  control  the  river  are  no  trifling  affairs. 
Perhaps  China  will  some  day  be  able  to  kill 
her  thousands  like  Japan  and  become  recog- 
nized as  civilized. 

In  the  meantime  China  is  dreadfully 
heathen.  But  there  is  hope.  We  are  edu- 
cating her.  Our  churches  contribute  mil- 
lions in  money  and  hundreds  of  precious  lives 
of  missionaries  to  teach  the  Chinamen  that 
their  religion  is  all  wrong,  and  their  civiliza- 
tion away  behind  the  times  and  not  suited  to 
them  at  all.  If  the  Chinamen  offer  any  ob- 
jection, or  throw  any  stones,  or  break  any 
windows,  or  chase  the  unwelcome  teacher 
of  a  strange  religion  out  of  their  neighbor- 


98  Oriental  Rambles. 

hood,  the  cable  gets  hot  with  the  calls  for 
gunboats.  The  lion  roars,  and  the  eagle 
screams.  Then  the  war  ships  and  sol- 
diers come  and  take  a  province  or  two; 
force  the  helpless  government  to  sign  a 
treaty  that  the  province  is  gladly  given 
up,  sold,  leased,  or  given  away;  that 
they  love  the  missionaries  dearly,  that 
they  are  very,  very  sorry  their  property  or 
feelings  were  hurt;  and,  that  they  will  cut 
off  the  head  of  somebody,  and  see  that  it 
does  not  occur  again. 

But  they  are  learning.  They  are  learning 
how  to  build  forts  and  train  men,  and  bor- 
row money,  and  manufacture  rifles  and  big 
guns.  In  due  course  of  time  they  will  be- 
come civilized,  and  have  an  army  of  a  hun- 
dred million  men;  then,  perhaps,  an  Asiatic 
Napoleon,  another  Mongol  like  Genghis 
Kahn  who  conquered  Central  Asia  in  the 
thirteenth  century  will  rise  up  among  them, 
who  knows  how  to  handle  such  an  army  be- 
cause he  has  been  educated  at  the  expense  of 
the  American  people  at  West  Point,  and — 
then  may  all  the  world  tremble. 

On  the  way  down  the  river  we  passed  a 
large  house-boat  flying  the  American  flag. 
It  was  floating  lazily  at  anchor  near  the 


Strange  if  True,  and  Strange  Anyway.   99 

bank.  Its  decks  were  shaded  by  awnings 
and  comfortable  with  hammocks  and  steamer 
chairs.  It  looked  very  cool  and  luxurious. 
Its  occupants  waved  us  a  cheery  salutation 
as  we  passed.  The  captain  replied: 

"No  that  is  not  an  American  millionaire 
but  missionaries  spending  a  season  on  the 
river  for  the  good  of  the  natives. 

The  captain  was  a  hardened  sailor.  He 
appeared  to  believe  that  the  foreign  teachers 
destroyed  the  natives'  reverence  for  the  moral 
code  of  their  ancestors  without  supplying 
them  with  a  working  quantity  of  the  Chris- 
tian conscience. 

He  related  a  story  of  the  missionary 
house-boat,  which  illustrates  the  patience 
required  to  awaken  China. 

The  missionary's  class  having  assembled 
the  good  man  proceeded  to  throw  the  light 
into  dark  places  in  this  manner: 

"Who  made  you?"  he  asked  of  the  China 
boy  at  the  end  of  the  line. 

"Ancestors." 

"No.  God  made  you,"  corrected  the 
missionary.  "Now  who  made  you?" 

"God." 

"Correct.   Now  what  did  he  make  you  of?" 

"Spirits,"   replied  heathen   number  two. 


ioo  Oriental  Rambles. 

"No,"  corrected  the  missionary  again. 
"He  made  you  of  dirt.  Now  what  did  He 
make  you  of?" 

"Dirt." 

"Correct.  Now  what  did  he  command 
you  not  to  do?" 

"Confucius,  him  say,  no  makee  ancestor 
losee  face;  no  stealee,  no  talkee  lie,"  prompt- 
ly answered  number  three. 

"The  answer  is  'sin,'  "  sternly  corrected 
the  missionary.  "Now  what  did  God  com- 
mand you  not  to  commit?" 

"Sin." 

"Now  what  is  the  Trinity?" 

On  this  the  Chinaman  figured  some  time 
and  finally  declared.  "One  is  three  and 
three  is  one,  Chinaman  no  can  do."  This  re- 
quired a  long  explanation  and  in  the  mean- 
time convert  number  two  disappeared. 

"Now  we  will  review  the  lesson,"  said 
the  missionary. 

"Now,  number  one,  who  made  you?" 

"God." 

"What  did  he  make  you  of?" 

"Sin,"  came  the  surprising  admission  from 
convert  number  three. 

"Oh  my,  no!" 

"Yes,  me  catche  'sin.'     Dirtee  Chinaman, 


Learning  English.  101 

him  jump  overboard,  takec  washee.  Him 
talkee  plenty  good  Englis,  catchee  job  guide; 
him  no  more  likee  Melican  Joss." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

MACAO;    THE   MONTE    CARLO   OF   THE 
EASTERN  SEA. 

Macao  is  picturesque.  As  our  steamer  ap- 
proached there  was  a  suggestion  of  a  water 
color  sketch  in  its  buildings,  tinted  pale  blue, 
salmon  or  gleaming  white,  which  terraced  the 
rugged  peninsula  in  an  azure  sea.  It  was 
built  by  the  Portuguese  four  hundred  years 
ago,  and  looks  its  age. 

The  mob  of  Chinese  rikisha  men  at  the 
dock  were  held  in  check  by  a  pompous  little 
Portuguese  policeman.  He  was  less  than  five 
feet  in  height  and  weighed  perhaps  a  hundred 
pounds.  He  carried  a  pistol  and  an  enor- 
mous saber.  His  black  eyes  flashed  from 
under  bushy  eyebrows,  and  his  exuberant 
whiskers  bristled  with  importance.  He  did 
not  hesitate  to  slap  the  Chinamen  in  the  face, 
and  if  one  showed  the  slightest  resentment, 
he  would  get  a  resounding  whack  with  the 
flat  of  the  saber  across  his  solar  plexus,  or 

on  his  ultimate  if  he  had  turned  to  flee. 
10* 


The  Fan-Tan  Game.  103 

When  we  had  at  last  selected  rikishas 
we  made  fast  time  to  the  Boa  Vista  Hotel. 
The  view  from  the  porches  was  of  such  strik- 
ing beauty  that  it  brought  rhapsodies  of  de- 
light from  every  tourist.  The  hotel  was  on 
a  hillside  at  one  end  of  a  crescent  bay.  At 
the  other  end  was  a  cone  shaped  hill  crowned 
by  the  Montee  fortress.  On  the  glassy  sur- 
face of  the  bay  floated  junks  and  the  bat- 
winged  boats  of  the  fishermen.  Facing  the 
bay  is  the  Praya  Grande,  a  wide  esplanade, 
thronged  with  promenaders.  It  is  shaded 
by  banyan  trees,  and  protected  from  the  sea 
by  a  substantial  granite  wall.  At  the  fur- 
ther end  of  the  Praya  Grande  are  the  public 
gardens  beautifully  laid  out  and  glowing 
with  tropical  flowers.  A  military  band  was 
playing  there,  and  the  sweet  strains  of  mu- 
sic mellowed  by  distance,  were  brought  us  on 
the  fragrant  breezes.  Macao  might  be 
called  an  Asiatic  Naples,  but,  on  account  of 
its  many  gambling  establishments  it  is  known 
as  the  Monte  Carlo  of  the  Eastern  Sea. 

In  the  evening  we  went  to  one  of  the 
brilliantly  lighted  gambling  houses  to  see 
the  popular  game  of  Fan-tan.  We  were 
shown  to  a  balcony  from  which  we  could 
look  down  upon  a  fan-tan  table,  around 


1 04  Oriental  Rambles. 

which  was  a  crowd  of  Chinamen,  Portu- 
guese, and  Eurasians.  High  class  natives 
and  foreigners  use  this  upper  balcony  when 
they  play.  A  dealer  for  the  house  sits  at  a 
large  table  upon  which  are  painted  four 
squares  marked  1,2,3  and  4-  A  pile  of  copper 
coins  is  before  him.  He  pushes  a  handful 
towards  the  center  of  the  table,  and  partial- 
ly covers  it  with  a  bowl.  Then  the  betting 
begins.  The  players  can  place  their  money 
on  either  of  these  four  numbers.  When  the 
bets  are  placed,  the  dealer  lifts  the  bowl  and 
counts  the  coins  back  into  his  pile  in  lots  of 
four,  using  a  chop  stick  that  all  may  see  the 
counting.  There  will  be  left  over  an  odd  i, 
2,  or  3  coins,  or  they  will  come  out  even  on 
the  4.  The  number  left  over  wins,  and  all 
who  have  their  money  on  that  square  are 
paid  three  times  their  bet,  less  ten  per  cent, 
commission.  All  others  lose  to  the  house. 
An  attendant  on  the  balcony  attended  to  the 
players,  lowering  their  money  to  the  table 
and  drawing  it  up  by  means  of  a  cord  and 
basket.  The  bets  were  usually  silver  coins, 
but  sometimes  large  bank  notes  traveled 
down,  and  fat  rolls  came  up,  by  the  cord  and 
basket  route.  It  is  purely  a  game  of  chance, 
and  quite  exciting. 


Camoens'   Gardens.  105 

The  house  served  tea  and  nuts.  A  few 
Chinamen  were  smoking  opium  on  the  teak 
wood  divans  around  the  gallery,  or  dozing 
quietly  in  the  opium  fiend's  paradise. 

On  our  return  to  the  hotel,  how  charming 
were  the  cool  verandas !  The  street  lights  of 
the  Praya  Grande  outlined  the  crescent  of 
the  bay,  and  from  the  distant  public  garden 
came  the  soft  strains  of  a  waltz.  Across  the 
dark  waters  of  the  bay  stretched  a  shimmer- 
ing pathway  of  silver  to  the  low  hanging 
moon. 

The  next  day  we  visited  the  picturesque 
ruins  of  the  old  cathedral  at  the  top  of  a  long 
flight  of  steps.  It  is  interesting  from  the 
fact  that  immense  treasure  is  supposed  to  be 
buried  in  the  neighborhood,  and  that  many 
Japanese  converts  who  escaped  the  persecu- 
tion in  Japan,  assisted  in  its  building. 

Nearby  is  the  entrance  to  Camoens'  Gar- 
dens where  the  exiled  soldier-poet  of  Portu- 
gal completed  his  heroic  epic  "The  Lusia- 
das."  Through  a  mediaeval  gateway  we 
entered  a  garden  blooming  with  many  flow- 
ers. The  air  was  sweet  with  heliotrope,  lav- 
ender, and  rose.  We  passed  an  imposing 
old  mansion  occupied  by  the  military  Gover- 
nor, and  walked  down  an  avenue  in  the  cool- 


io6  Oriental  Rambles. 

ing  shade  of  the  spreading  banyan  trees, 
then  up  a  small  hill,  and  found  ourselves  in 
a  little  nook  shaded  by  immense  overhanging 
boulders.  This  is  the  grotto  of  the  Camo- 
ens,  the  spot  where  the  immortal  bard  re- 
tired to  receive  inspiration  to  write  the 
greatest  epic  poem  in  Portuguese  literature 
for  the  glory  of  Louis  of  Portugal,  who  had 
exiled  him,  because  he  knew  too  much,  and 
wrote  too  truly. 

In  an  archway  formed  by  the  boulders  are 
verses  in  various  languages  praising  Camo- 
ens.  One  in  English  began : 

"Gem  of  the  Orient,  Earth,  and  open  Sea, 
Macao ;  that  on  thy  lap  and  on  thy  breast 
Has  gathered  beauties  all  the  loveliest 
Which  the  sun  shines  on  in  his  majesty." 

There  was  more  of  this  poem,  but  as  it 
progressed  it  got  worse,  so  I  divide  it  in  the 
middle,  and  deliver  only  the  top. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

SINGAPORE. 

On  the  voyage  down  from  Hong  Kong 
ducks  came  out ;  also  lawns,  and  pongees.  It 
was  hot,  and  the  dark  man  who  pulled  the 
punka  was  overworked.  The  punka  is  an 
early  ancestor  of  the  electric  fan.  If  he 
pulled  too  lazily  at  the  rope  the  wrath  of 
some  officer  was  sure  to  fall  upon  him.  This 
particular  punka  oscillated  over  the  table  in 
the  dining  cabin,  and  faintly  stirred  the  hu- 
mid air  into  the  semblance  of  a  breeze. 
Sometimes  he  held  the  cord  with  his  toes, 
and  then  the  upper  part  of  him  slept,  but  his 
leg  was  awake  and  swung  regularly  back  and 
forth  pulling  the  cord. 

At  Singapore  we  were  within  a  few  de- 
grees of  the  equator,  and  here  we  stopped 
for  a  day.  A  drive  to  the  Botanical  Gar- 
dens was  full  of  interest.  The  glare  of  the 
chalk  roads  was  relieved  by  the  dense  green 
of  the  tropical  foliage.  The  bungalows  of 
the  European  residents  are  raised  on  stilts 
to  permit  the  breezes  to  temper  the  heat  and 
incidentally,  perhaps,  to  discourage  the  ma- 


107 


io8  Oriental  Rambles. 

laria  germs,  fever  microbes,  snakes,  tigers 
and  other  dangers  that  are  the  principal  sub- 
jects for  afternoon  conversations.  In  the 
town  itself  the  malaria  and  fever  germs  are 
constant  visitors,  and  boa  constrictors  and 
tigers  occasionally  call. 

At  the  Zoological  Garden  there  is  a  charm- 
ing collection  of  snakes — a  whole  temper- 
ance lecture, — and  several  nice  glossy  tigers. 
There  is  also  a  cageful  of  monkeys  thirsting 
for  knowledge;  one  reached  a  surprisingly 
long  arm  through  the  bars  and  appropriated 
my  glasses.  He  carried  them  to  the  highest 
perch,  then  he  chuckled  with  delight  and 
gravely  looked  through  them.  He  was 
plainly  surprised.  His  exclamations  attract- 
ed a  dozen  other  monkeys.  They  quarreled 
about  my  glasses,  and  then  divided  them, 
and  when  I  came  away  one  was  parading  the 
cage  looking  through  a  single  eye-glass  like 
Montmorency  of  the  "Happy  Hooligan" 
family. 

The  street  scenes  of  Singapore  are  especi- 
ally interesting.  All  the  races  of  the  East 
are  represented,  with  the  Malays  predom- 
inating. These  people  are  shady  of  skin, 
lathy  of  leg  and  not  much  given  to  clothes. 
Such  as  they  have  are  in  all  the  colors  of  the 


Not  Much  Given  to  Clothes.  109 

rainbow.  These  benighted  heathen  are  still 
in  darkness  regarding  the  advantages  of 
clothing  in  their  hot  climate,  and  they  will  not 
realize  that  it  is  very  improper  to  go  about 
clad  only  in  red  breech  clouts  and  brass  ank- 
lets. Occasionally  some  dandy  among  them 
will  appear  of  a  holiday  carrying  European 
clothes  to  extremes  by  wearing  a  discarded 
silk  hat  and  patent  leather  shoes,  but  alas 
there  will  be  no  more  in  the  middle  than  be- 
fore. 

Here  we  entered  a  Hindoo  temple  at  the 
invitation  of  the  good-natured  Cerebus  at 
the  gate  who  wore  a  few  clothes  and  a  kind- 
ly smile.  His  teeth  were  dyed  a  deep  crim- 
son by  the  betel  nut  he  was  industriously 
chewing.  He  showed  us  several  fierce  idols 
and  two  cars  of  Juggernaut. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

PENANG TROPICAL  FRUITS. 

All  day  we  sailed  up  the  Strait  of  Ma- 
lacca. Some  of  us  slept  on  deck  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  Southern  Cross.  Whether 
we  saw  it,  is  a  matter  of  faith,  and  "faith  is 
believing  what  you  know  ain't  so,"  as  the 
small  boy  said.  We  did,  however,  see  the 
hills  of  Sumatra,  and  the  mountains  of  the 
Malay  Peninsula.  One  of  the  highest  peaks 
is  Mount  Ophir,  where,  according  to  a  tra- 
dition, the  Queen  of  Sheba  had  gold  mines. 

The  sea  was  serene  and  on  its  glassy  sur- 
face the  passing  clouds  were  reflected.  Fre- 
quently we  saw  driftwood.  Once  we  passed 
a  native  canoe  upturned.  The  breeze  was 
fresh  with  the  odor  of  the  ocean  and  soft 
with  the  balm  of  the  Indian  Isles  where : 

"Are  still  the  heavy  blossomed  bowers, 

And  the  heavy  fruited  trees; 
The  summer  Isles  of  Eden 

In  their  purple  sphere  of  seas." 

There  was  a  langorous  charm  in  the  air. 
To  stretch  in  a  steamer  chair  and  give  one's 


no 


Tropical  Luxuriance.  in 

self  up  to  the  happiness  of  indolence,  was  a 
luxury  which  was  all  too  soon  interrupted  by 
our  arrival  at  Penang. 

Penang,  where  the  nutmegs  come  from,  is 
much  like  Singapore.  The  people  look  even 
more  barbaric  on  account  of  the  custom  of 
painting  their  foreheads,  arms  and  bodies  to 
indicate  their  caste.  It  is  very  effective  on 
their  brown  skins.  Another  race,  the  Chet- 
ties,  shave  the  front  of  their  scalps  but  allow 
their  back  hair  to  fall  over  their  shoulders. 

We  took  garees,  as  the  native  carriages 
are  called,  and  drove  some  four  miles  to  the 
Botanical  Garden.  The  road  was  through 
groves  of  cocoanut,  date  and  areca  palms, 
nutmeg,  clove  and  cinnamon  trees.  We 
passed  many  spacious  European  bungalows 
and  native  palm  huts. 

The  Botanical  Garden  is  a  revel  of  tropi- 
cal luxuriance,  strange  flowers,  wonderful 
orchids  and  heavy  perfumes.  Back  of  the 
garden  rises  a  hill,  billowy  with  the  green  of 
tree  tops.  From  a  notch  in  its  crest  a  moun- 
tain stream  tumbles  hundreds  of  feet  in  a 
foaming  cascade.  In  the  sunlight  it  gleamed 
like  a  white  satin  ribbon  on  a  green  velvet 
curtain.  We  climbed  to  the  cascade,  ad- 
mired its  beauties,  and  filled  our  sun  helmets 


ii2  Oriental  Rambles. 

with  brilliant  flowers  that  nodded  from  the 
rocky  clefts. 

In  the  cooling  sprays  of  the  waterfall  we 
tasted  the  fruit  of  the  tropics.  Our  Malay 
boy  opened  the  basket  and  presented  a  fruit 
that  looked  something  like  a  yellow  toma- 
to. It  was  a  mango.  Its  watery  interior 
was  held  together  by  a  fibrous,  cottony  net- 
work, and  the  eating  of  one  is  like  unto  the 
sucking  of  a  sweet  rag.  Another  fruit  look- 
ed like  a  baked  potato  and  tasted  like  a  pear 
gone  wrong.  Then  came  the  mangostine. 
This  was  a  highly-ornamented  fruit  trim- 
med with  four  small  leaves  at  its  stem,  and 
a  mark  on  its  tip  like  a  marigold.  We  cut 
through  its  purple  skin  and  its.  rose-tinted 
husk,  and  a  snowy  white  heart  separated. 
This  readily  broke  into  quarters  like  little 
blocks  of  ice  cream.  I  tasted  a  portion  and 
gave  thanks ;  for  it  melted  in  the  mouth  with 
a  cool,  refreshing  lemon-phosphate  taste 
that  would  delight  a  Sybarite,  whatever  a 
Sybarite  may  be. 

The  sunset  as  seen  from  the  ship  when  it 
steamed  away  from  Penang  that  evening  was 
strangely  beautiful.  The  sun  approached 
the  distant  hills  in  a  glory  of  golden  haze 
barred  by  burnished  copper.  The  cloud 


Sunset  on  the  Indian  Ocean.          113 

margins  faded  into  pale  green  and  turquois, 
touched  here  and  there  with  rose  and  amber. 
Into  this  riot  of  colors,  streamers  of  pink  from 
the  sinking  sun  shot  into  the  heavens  in  rays 
of  radiating  glory,  changing  constantly  and 
suffusing  all  the  circle  of  the  horizon  with 
rosy  opalescence.  It  was  one  of  those  sun- 
sets that  not  even  fancy  can  tint;  a  fragment, 
perhaps,  of  the  glory  that  surrounds  the  eter- 
nal throne. 

The  colors  faded;  the  clouds  darkened; 
only  a  dull  red  glow  lingered  on  the  western 
horizon.  The  heavenly  vault  deepened  to 
azure;  the  tiny  stars  peeped  shyly  out; 
and  a  great,  round,  red  moon  slowly  rose 
out  of  the  glistening  waters  of  the  Indian 
Ocean. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

ARRIVAL  AT  COLOMBO  AND  A  SAD  DECEPTION. 

As  we  approached  Ceylon  we  could  see 
the  hazy  blue  mountains  with  puffs  of  steamy 
clouds  hanging  on  their  wooded  slopes;  and 
forests  of  palms  fringing  the  sandy  beaches 
where  the  white  line  of  the  breakers  could 
be  seen.  Many  passengers  stood  at  the  rail 
a  long  time  sniffing  the  air,  for  the  "spicy 
breezes  that  blow  soft  o'er  Ceylon's  Isle," 
but  all  they  got  for  their  trouble  were  sun- 
burned noses  from  the  reflection  of  the  sun 
on  the  water. 

When  we  came  to  anchor,  numerous  na- 
tive boys  in  breech  clouts  paddled  to  the  ship 
on  rafts  of  three  slender  logs.  Standing  on 
these  uncertain  platforms  they  lifted  up  their 
voices  in  glad  peans  of  joy,  for  money  was 
coming  their  way.  They  sang  "Ta-ra-ra- 
boom-de-aye,"  beating  time  by  slapping  their 
naked  sides  with  their  elbows.  When  pas- 
sengers had  been  attracted  to  the  rail,  these 
unchins  cried  "Throw  a  penny,  Mister?" 
When  a  coin  was  thrown  into  the  water  every 
urchin  dived.  Down  they  went,  scrambling 

114 


The  Moral  of  a  Catamaran.          115 

for  the  coin,  and  when  they  came  up  one  of 
them  was  sure  to  have  it  between  his  teeth. 

Some  of  the  impatient  passengers  went 
ashore  on  catamarans.  A  catamaran  is  a 
rakish  looking  craft  made  of  a  hollow  log. 
It  is  capable  of  sustaining  a  not  too  obese 
passenger  in  the  center,  and  a  lean  native  at 
either  end.  It  would  immediately  capsize 
were  it  not  for  the  outrigger,  which  consists 
of  a  small  log  lashed  at  the  ends  of  two  poles 
and  floating  alongside.  This  humble  out- 
rigger is  an  essential  supr/ort  of  the  boat. 
From  this  simple  craft  the  Philosopher  from 
Philadelphia  deduced  some  comforting  mor- 
als. 

"It  is  sometimes  given  to  the  weaker 
half,"  he  said,  "to  be  the  support  of  the 
strong,"  and  he  added  sadly,  "sometimes  the 
sole  support."  "It  also  teaches  the  value  of 
little  things;  for  instance,  if  our  salary  is 
small  we  should  be  consoled  by  the  thought 
that  such  as  it  is,  we  need  it." 

The  Philosopher  had  other  inexpensive 
wisdoms  of  the  catamaran  variety,  but  his 
audience  had  climbed  overboard  to  the  steam 
tender. 

After  passing  through  the  custom  house 
with  that  sense  of  burning  shame  that  comes 


n6  Oriental  Rambles. 

from  having  nothing  to  smuggle,  we  stepped 
into  rikishas,  and  were  soon  rolling  along 
the  sea-shore  road  to  the  Galle  Face  Hotel. 

What  a  pleasure  it  is  to  one  who  has  been 
a  long  time  on  shipboard  to  feel  himself 
again  on  the  solid  earth.  With  what  relief 
one  can  fill  the  lungs  with  air  that  has  the 
odors  of  growing  grasses  and  blooming  flow- 
ers. 

The  roads  of  Colombo  are  made  of  molas- 
ses colored  soil,  which  has  a  habit  of  mean- 
dering through  the  air,  and  settling  on  any 
face  that  happens  to  be  convenient.  This 
produces  some  curious  maps  on  the  perspir- 
ing faces  of  the  tourists,  but  on  the  natives  it 
doesn't  show. 

As  we  rode,  I  remarked  to  Phil,  the  Phi- 
losopher from  Philadelphia,  the  strange  ab- 
sence of  men.  The  way  women  are  down- 
trodden in  this  heathen  island  is  certainly  a 
sin.  Reared  as  I  was  in  a  land  where  wo- 
men are  respected,  and  protected,  it  filled  me 
with  indignation  to  see  women,  lovely  wo- 
men, engaged  in  every  sort  of  occupation. 
There  were  frail  women  carrying  burdens; 
slender  women  with  soulful  eyes  toiling  in 
the  roads;  fat  women  whose  skirts  were  bad- 
ly stretched  to  get  around,  driving  nails  and 


Imposed  Upon.  117 

hitting  the  heads  every  time;  women  driving 
bullock  carts,  and  using  frightful  language; 
and  women  doing  nothing,  but  throng  the 
streets. 

All  of  them  wore  skirts  of  checked  calico 
tightly  wrapped  around  their  limbs,  and  their 
long  hair  was  neatly  done  in  top-knots,  held 
by  large  tortoise  shell  combs. 

Were  there  no  men  on  the  island?  Ap- 
parently not.  The  Philosopher  had  read 
of  some  such  island  in  the  Southern  Sea.  Can 
this  be  the  land  of  the  Amazons?  The 
Philosopher  thought  not,  as  he  saw  no  span- 
gled tights. 

A  beggar  girl  ran  by  my  side.  "Give  me 
a  penny,"  she  said,  tapping  her  forehead 
with  one  hand  and  rubbing  her  bare  stomach 
with  the  other.  "Give  me  a  penny."  Then 
she  reversed  the  order,  rubbing  her  forehead 
and  tapping  her  stomach."* 

"Give  me  a  penny.     You  are  my  father." 

"Impossible.     I  am  a  perfect  stranger." 

"You  are  my  very  good  father,"  she  in- 
sisted, salaaming  as  she  ran.  "You  are  my 
father;  give  me  a  penny."  She  kissed  her 
hand  and  touched  my  white  shoes. 

"You  are  my  father." 

*A  very  difficult  feat.     Try  it  yourself.— G.  W.  C. 


n8  Oriental  Rambles. 

Here  was  a  sad  case.  In  all  this  town 
there  was  not  a  man  to  be  her  father.  She 
must  beg  one.  Anyone  who  had  money 
would  do.  Not  a  man  in  sight  but  the  Phi- 
losopher; and  yet,  it  was  curious,  there  were 
children, — many  of  them — I  could  recog- 
nize them  anywhere.  They  wore  no  dis- 
guises. Clad  in  the  rich  brown  tints  of  their 
complexions,  and  Trilby  hearts,  they  stood 
forth  in  the  perspective,  living  evidence  of 
the  needlessness  of  the  masculine  gender  in 
the  propagation  of  the  species.  I  was  dumb- 
founded. Here  was  a  discovery.  Beside  it 
Darwin's  discoveries  and  theories  were  as 
simple  as  nursery  rhymes.  It  is  true  Prof. 
Loeb  had  discovered  that  sea  urchins  can  be 
produced  without  male  fertilization,  but 
what  was  that  compared  to  my  discovery  that 
land  urchins  can  be  produced  without  man. 
I  would  report  it  to  the  Scientific  world  at 
once,  and  emblazon  my  name  high  on  the 
pinnacle  of  fame,  beside  Prof.  Smitherene's 
whose  paper  on  "Insomnia  of  the  Industrious 
Flea"  won  the  the  Tanner's  medal. 

I  bounded  into  the  hotel,  ordered  a  bale 
of  paper  and  a  quart  of  ink  sent  at  once  to 
my  room  and  sprang  up  the  stairs  three  steps 
at  a  time. 


A  Custom  of  the  Country.  119 

At  last  the  writing  material  was  brought — 
by  apparently  another  woman, — but,  Shades 
of  Cleopatra !  this  one  had  whiskers. 

"What,"  I  said,  a  horrible  suspicion  chill- 
ing my  blood,  "do  you  women  wear  whiskers 
too?" 

He  turned  reproachful  eyes  upon  me  and 
sadly  said: 

"Master,  I  am  the  father  of  a  family." 

"But  why  these  skirts;  your  Psyche  knot; 
your  tortoise  shell  combs?"  I  inquired. 

"Tis  the  custom  of  my  country,"  he  re- 
plied calmly.  "Shall  I  bring  you  tea?" 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

IN  AND  ABOUT  COLOMBO. 

My  room  at  the  Galle  Face  Hotel  over- 
looked the  ocean.  Cocoanut  trees  waved 
their  fronds  in  front  of  the  open  windows, 
and  cast  dark  shadows  in  the  evening  when 
the  moonlight  rippled  on  the  sea. 

I  did  not  occupy  my  room  alone.  I  shared 
it  with  hordes  of  mosquitoes  and  red  ants. 
Netting  around  the  bed  kept  the  former  at 
bay,  and  one  gets  used  to  the  latter. 

My  most  frequent  visitors  were  the  crows. 
They  came  early  and  stayed  late.  They  sat 
on  the  window  ledge,  and  stared  with  their 
heads  tipped  saucily  to  one  side,  and  cawed 
for  the  remains  of  Chota  hadzri,  or  early 
breakfast  of  toast  and  tea,  which  is  brought 
before  one  is  out  of  bed  according  to  the  cus- 
tom of  the  country. 

One  gradually  gets  accustomed  to  room 
boys  in  skirts,  Psyche  knots,  and  hair  combs. 
With  a  little  experience  one  can  distinguish 
the  genuine  female  from  the  near-woman  va- 
riety. 

ISO 


Keeping  an  Eye  Out  for  Whiskers.     121 

The  women  are  highly  ornamented  with 
anklets,  toe  rings,  finger  rings,  armlets,  neck- 
laces and  ear-rings  in  curiously  worked  sil- 
ver and  gold,  some  set  with  native  precious 
stones.  Even  the  nose  is  not  spared.  Often 
a  jeweled  ornament  is  anchored  in  one  side. 
Occasionally  both  sides  of  the  nose  are 
pierced,  and  hung  with  jeweled  pendants. 
But  men  also  wear  much  jewelry,  consequent- 
ly that  is  of  little  assistance  in  determining 
sex.  It  is  safer,  and  better  judgment  to  keep 
an  eye  out  for  whiskers.  Under  seven  years 
of  age  children  are  clothed  only  in  jewelry, 
including  a  silver  chain  around  the  waist 
from  which  is  suspended  an  ornament  in  the 
form  of  a  Trilby  heart  in  the  location  of  the 
historical  fig  leaf. 

The  rides  around  Colombo  are  sources  of 
ever-varying  delight.  The  roads  wind 
through  groves  of  cinnamon,  nutmeg,  clove 
and  palm  trees.  There  is  a  depth  of  green 
that  throws  the  purple  of  the  passion  flower 
and  the  scarlet  of  the  hibiscus  into  brilliant 
relief.  The  palm  leaf  cottages  of  the  na- 
tives, half  hidden  in  flowery  bowers,  the 
gracefully  draped  women,  and  the  naked 
cherubs  playing  about,  are  in  perfect  har- 
mony with  the  Orient  of  our  dreams. 


122  Oriental  Rambles. 

Wherever  there  is  a  pond  or  a  river,  one 
will  generally  find .  natives  at  their  laundry 
work.  They  wash  their  clothes  on  them- 
selves and  take  them  off  to  dry  in  the  wind. 
So  skillful  are  they  in  exchanging  their  gar- 
ments in  public  that  at  no  time  is  too  much 
bronze  visible. 

The  natives  wash  the  European's  clothes 
by  trailing  them  in  the  stream,  and  trash- 
ing a  rock  with  them.  This  method  is  guar- 
anteeed  to  be  the  most  destructive  known, 
but  these  native  laundries  are  among  the 
most  picturesque  scenes  in  Ceylon. 

One  afternoon  we  drove  to  a  Buddhist 
Temple,  some  miles  out,  where  there  is  a 
large  dagoba.  A  dagoba  is  a  monument  in 
somewhat  the  shape  of  a  huge  dinner  bell, 
and  usually  contains  some  sacred  relic  or 
tomb.  Far  away  in  the  tangled  forest  of 
the  interior,  are  ruined  cities,  with  dagobas 
three  hundred  feet  high  and  four  hundred 
feet  in  diameter  at  the  base. 

As  it  was  a  festival  day  we  found  the  great 
court-yard  gay  with  banners  strung  from 
masts.  Natives  were  sitting  in  meditation 
under  the  sacred  Bo  tree.  One  of  these  trees 
stands  in  nearly  every  temple  yard.  It  is 
considered  the  most  desirable  tree  under 


A  Visit  to  a  Temple.  123 

which  to  meditate,  because  in  its  shade  Bud- 
dha sat  when  he  attained  perfect  sanctification. 

A  procession  entered  the  grounds.  At  the 
head  came  a  band  of  musicians  with  native 
instruments.  Then  followed  young  women 
draped  in  white,  bearing  on  their  heads  urns 
containing  rice  and  fruits  as  offerings  for  the 
support  of  the  temple.  Others  bore  trays  of 
temple  flowers,  white  and  lily-like,  with 
heavy  perfume.  The  procession  passed 
around  the  temple  singing. 

I  opened  my  camera  and  prepared  to  take 
a  picture.  The  action  was  observed,  but  I 
was  not  expelled.  On  the  contrary  two  old 
gentlemen  with  patriarchal  beards,  who 
seemed  to  be  the  marshals  of  the  occasion, 
offered  to  march  the  procession  in  any  posi- 
tion I  wished  that  I  might  get  a  good  photo- 
graph. The  festival  was  interrupted.  The 
people  marched  and  countermarched.  Every 
suggestion  was  welcomed  with  the  laughing 
good  humor  found  in  children  and  heathens. 
So  much  attention  was  embarrassing. 

Finally  my  good  patriarch  friends  asked  if 
I  would  like  to  photograph  the  high  priest. 
Of  course  I  would,  and  would  consider  it  a 
great  honor.  He  said  he  would  arrange  it 
and  disappeared. 


124  Oriental  Rambles. 

Soon  a  chair  was  brought  and  placed  at 
the  temple  entrance.  The  venerable  priest 
came  out  and  seated  himself.  The  younger 
priests  and  temple  attendants  gathered 
around  him.  My  two  patriarch  friends  with 
the  beards  sat  at  his  feet,  and  I  took  their 
photographs.  The  high  priest  did  not  speak 
English,  but  through  an  interpreter  he  wished 
us  well,  bowed  profoundly,  and  withdrew 
within  the  temple. 

Do  you  think  a  Cingalese  traveling  in 
America  would  meet  with  such  courtesy  if  he 
should  visit  our  churches  during  a  festival? 

With  many  bows  and  thanks  we  left  our 
gentle  heathen  friends,  the  Buddhists.  I  am 
afraid  I  shall  feel  like  a  pious  slanderer  if  in 
the  little  church  at  home  I  sing  as  the  mis- 
sionary plate  is  going  round: 

"  What  tho'  the  spicy  breezes 

Blow  soft  o'er  Ceylon's  Isle, 
Where  every  prospect  pleases 

And    ONLY    MAN    IS    VILE." 

Just  as  we  reached  the  hotel  a  tropical 
storm  overtook  us.  Black  clouds  rolled  rap- 
idly across  the  sky.  The  wind  came  roaring 
upon  us,  bending  and  shaking  the  palm  trees 
like  banners.  The  day  suddenly  became 
dark  as  twilight.  Vivid  lightnings  slashed  the 


A  Tropical  Storm.  125 

heavens,  and  thunder  crashed  a  continuous 
cannonade.  The  rain  fell  in  torrents. 
Presently  the  storm  had  passed.  All  was 
calm  again  and  the  sun  shone  brighter  than 
before.  It  was  like  an  outburst  of  passion 
that  is  followed  by  regret. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

KANDY,    AND   THE    KANDY   TOOTH. 

After  a  short  railroad  ride  through  a 
strange  and  interesting  country,  we  arrived 
at  Kandy,  the  ancient  capital  of  the  Cinga- 
lese Kings.  Kandy  is  a  charming  place  nest- 
ling among  the  hills  on  the  border  of  an  arti- 
ficial lake — one  of  the  few  remaining  irri- 
gation works  of  the  ancient  Kings  who  made 
Anuradhapura,  the  half-buried  ancient  city 
far  away  in  the  jungle,  one  of  the  most  mag- 
nificent capitals  of  the  world,  rivaling  Baby- 
lon and  Nineveh  in  extent  and  splendor. 

Near  the  center  of  the  lake  there  is  an 
island  overgrown  with  palms  and  mossy 
trees.  A  palace  was  once  there  as  beautiful 
as  a  poet's  dream.  It  was  the  king's  harem. 
Nothing  now  remains  but  a  vine-covered 
arch.  The  king's  gondola  no  longer  touches 
the  half  buried  marble  stairs.  The  throb  of 
the  lute,  the  tinkle  of  the  castanets,  and  the 
laughter  of  women,  are  no  longer  borne 
across  the  waters  as  they  dance  before  the 
king.  Now  are  heard  only  the  songs  of 


128 


A  Bone  of  Contention.  127 

birds,  and  the  cooing  of  doves  among  the 
tangled  vines. 

The  ancient  Temple  of  the  Tooth  stands 
by  the  lake.  This  is  one  of  the  most  revered 
spots  in  all  Buddhism.  It  appears  that  when 
Buddha  died  he  left  a  tooth  which  in  after 
years  became  a  bone  of  contention.  During 
the  quarrels  of  the  Buddhists  and  Brahmins, 
it  was  deemed  unsafe  in  India,  and  was 
brought  to  Ceylon  in  the  third  century,  con- 
cealed in  the  hair  of  a  princess.  The  devout 
king  caused  a  shrine  of  gold  and  precious 
stones  to  be  built  for  it.  A  thousand  years 
later  Indian  invaders  took  the  tooth,  jewels 
and  all,  back  to  India ;  but  it  again  found  its 
way  to  Ceylon,  and  another  shrine  was  built 
for  it. 

Last  of  all  came  the  Portuguese,  who  were 
described  by  a  writer  of  the  time  as  "A  race 
of  men  surpassingly  white  and  beautiful, 
wearing  boots  and  hats  of  iron,  eating  a  white 
stone,  and  drinking  blood,  and  having  guns 
which  would  break  a  castle  of  marble." 

The  Portuguese  landed  and  proceeded  to 
rob  the  bodies  and  save  the  souls  of  the  na- 
tives. They  spread  Christianity  by  fire  and 
sword.  They  destroyed  the  temples;  broke 
the  irrigation  dams;  and  carried  the  tooth  of 


128  Oriental  Rambles. 

Buddha  to  Goa,  where  the  Archbishop  in 
the  presence  of  the  Viceroy,  publicly  burned 
that  sacred  relic  of  a  hundred  million  people. 

But  finally,  in  the  course  of  time,  the  Por- 
tuguese were  expelled  by  a  just  heaven, — and 
the  Dutch. 

The  Dutch  were  more  tolerant,  being 
more  concerned  in  getting  business  than  sav- 
ing souls;  consequently  a  miracle  was  per- 
formed by  which  the  late  incinerated  molar 
was  materialized  from  thin  air  with  nothing 
lost.  In  fact,  those  who  have  seen  it  say  it 
is  large  enough  for  a  horse. 

However  it  may  have  been  secured,  it  was 
duly  incased  in  gold,  placed  in  a  jeweled 
casket,  in  a  gold  cabinet,  in  the  Holy  of 
Holies  of  the  Temple  of  the  Tooth  in  Kan- 
dy,  and  is  accorded  all  the  veneration  of  the 
original. 

One  morning  we  were  aroused  by  the 
shrill  notes  of  flutes,  the  banging  of  tom- 
toms and  the  shouts  of  a  multitude.  We 
hastily  dressed  and  went  out.  A  country 
delegation  was  passing  to  the  temple  bear- 
ing tribute  of  rice  from  the  recent  harvest. 
They  were  dressed  in  the  gayest  colors,  and 
sang  as  they  marched,  two  by  two,  in  a  long 
procession.  The  baskets  of  rice,  bedecked 


? 


Courtesy  to  Travelers.  129 

with  temple  flowers,  were  carried  on  the 
heads.  There  were  many  curious  banners, 
and  a  canopy  was  carried  over  the  proces- 
sion. 

We  followed  into  the  temple.  A  polite 
young  priest  secured  for  us  an  elevated  posi- 
tion from  which  we  were  able  to  see  and 
photograph  the  procession  as  it  marched 
several  times  around  the  Holy  of  Holies 
which  is  a  shrine  built  in  the  centre  of  the 
temple  court-yard  containing  the  sacred 
tooth.  As  they  marched  they  sang  and 
shouted  "praises  to  Buddha,"  as  the  priest 
explained. 

The  young  priest  then  showed  us  the  treas- 
ures of  the  temple.  He  escorted  us  into  a 
room  dimly  lighted  with  candles.  Before 
an  image  of  Buddha  was  a  table  loaded 
with  temple  flowers.  The  air  was  oppres- 
sive with  their  rich,  sweet  odor.  He  opened 
cabinets  and  showed  us  Buddhas  in  gold,  in 
silver,  and  incrusted  with  precious  stones. 
With  evident  pride,  he  opened  another  cab- 
inet and  exhibited  a  figure  of  Buddha  fifteen 
inches  high  cut  from  a  single  rock  crystal. 
This  he  said  was  a  present  from  the  King  of 
Siam. 

He  took  us  to  the  library.     This  was  an 


13°  Oriental  Rambles. 

upper  floor  of  the  turret-like  corner  of  the 
temple,  and  was  nearly  surrounded  by  an 
arcade  from  which  a  splendid  view  of  the 
lake  and  hills  could  be  obtained.  We  were 
shown  sacred  tomes  of  the  Buddhist  scrip- 
tures written  by  hand  on  palm  leaves  and 
bound  in  golden  covers  incrusted  with  pre- 
cious stones.  He  also  showed  with  much  re- 
spect a  leaf  from  the  original  Bo  tree  in  In- 
dia, which  is  still  alive,  twenty-five  hundred 
years  after  Buddha  sat  in  its  shade.  This 
leaf  was  brought  and  presented  by  Sir  Edwin 
Arnold,  author  of  "The  Light  of  Asia," 
whose  works  are  on  the  library  shelves  to- 
gether with  all  the  books  in  all  languages 
that  have  reference  to  the  religion  of  Bud- 
dha. 

We  were  then  piloted  through  a  crowd  of 
natives  to  the  entrance  of  the  shrine  in  the 
yard.  Up  the  sacred  stairway  the  priest 
made  a  way,  crowding  to  one  side  the  natives 
who  were  devoutly  crawling  up  on  their 
knees.  These  people  scarcely  noticed  us. 
Their  lightly  clasped  hands,  upturned  eyes, 
and  rapt  expressions  indicated  intense  re- 
ligious sincerity,  and  calm  and  earnest  spirit- 
uality without  hysteria.  When  we  had 
reached  the  top  we  found  ourselves  in  a  small 


The  Devil  Dancers  of  Ceylon.        131 

room  dimly  lighted  by  candles,  and  packed 
solid  with  natives.  Beyond  a  railing,  which 
held  back  the  crush  of  people,  was  a  golden 
pagoda-like  casket,  perhaps  two  feet  high. 
In  this  is  the  sacred  tooth  enclosed  in  several 
smaller  caskets.  The  tooth  itself  is  shown  only 
on  especially  sacred  occasions,  much  as  the 
sacred  relics  are  shown  in  European  cathe- 
drals. We  did  not  linger  long.  The  air  was  too 
redolent  of  perfumes,  piety  and  perspiration. 

On  regaining  the  court-yard  we  found  our 
friends  of  the  morning  procession  engaged 
in  a  religious  service.  The  priest  secured  for 
us  a  position  on  the  platform  which  surround- 
ed the  court  from  which  we  could  get  a  good 
view  and  photograph  of  the  priests  on  one  side, 
and  the  assembled  multitude  on  the  other. 
The  priests  were  gathered  on  the  platform 
near  a  corner  of  the  court.  An  old  priest, 
his  strong,  kind  face  uplifted  to  the  heavens, 
was  repeating  a  service  with  the  intonations 
and  mannerisms  of  our  own  clergy.  The 
people  kneeling  in  the  court-yard  responded 
in  unison,  bowing  their  heads  and  uplifting 
their  clasped  hands  at  certain  sentences.  The 
similarity  to  our  Christian  service  was  re- 
markable. 

One  evening  we  were  entertained  by  the 


132  Oriental  Rambles. 

Devil  Dancers.  The  devils  of  disease  and 
misfortune  are  supposed  to  be  frightened 
away  by  their  antics.  At  ten  o'clock  a  com- 
pany of  nine  men  with  attendants  carrying 
torches  came  from  the  hills.  There  were 
six  men  with  barrel  drums,  small  drums  and 
cymbals  and  three  dancers.  The  dancers 
were  loaded  with  silver  bells  and  fantastic  or- 
naments, which  jingled  as  they  marched  up 
the  street. 

When  this  grotesque  procession  reached 
the  open  space  before  the  hotel  porch,  where 
the  spectators  were  congregated,  they  began 
a  weird  chant  in  nasal  falsetto  to  the  accom- 
paniment of  their  strange  musical  instru- 
ments. Gradually  their  fervor  increased  and 
they  began  to  strike  the  earth  with  their  bare 
feet.  The  music  became  faster  and  faster 
and  their  steps  more  sprightly  until  they 
bounded  about  in  wild  acrobatic  dancing,  with 
barbaric  frenzy,  until  it  seemed  they  might 
in  truth  scare  the  devils,  or  that  they,  them- 
selves, were  possessed  of  them.  The  furious 
energy  thrown  into  the  dance  held  the  spec- 
tators spellbound.  With  a  flashlight  I  caught 
their  photographs.  As  a  devil-scarer  a 
flashlight  beats  dancing,  for  the  whole  party 
immediately  decamped. 


Among  the  Mountains.  133 

From  Kandy  it  is  a  steady  climb  to  Nu- 
wara  Eliya.  The  railroad  penetrates  ravines 
and  climbs  mountain  slopes — ever  up  and  up. 
This  is  the  region  of  Ceylon  tea — "Upton's 
Best."  As  we  went  up  the  thermometer  went 
down.  When  we  reached  Nuwara  Eliya  we 
were  over  six  thousand  feet  high, — more 
than  a  mile.  It  was  uncomfortably  cool  and 
rainy,  but  in  the  hot  season  it  is  a  favorite  re- 
sort for  the  European  residents  to  escape  the 
heat  of  the  lowlands.  We  had  parted  with 
the  palms,  but  we  made  the  acquaintance  of 
the  tree  ferns  and  tea  bushes. 

At  the  rear  of  the  town  is  the  highest  peak 
on  the  island,  over  eight  thousand  feet  in  ele- 
vation. The  Cingalese,  having  plenty  of 
time,  call  it  Pidaru  Talaga,  but  the  Euro- 
peans cut  it  to  Pedro.  The  view  from  the 
summit  is  well  worth  the  climb.  Mountains 
and  valleys,  roughly  tumbled,  extend  away 
to  Adam's  Peak.  But  our  view  was  short. 
A  fog  from  the  ocean  rolled  up  the  valleys 
like  a  tidal  wave,  engulfing  the  lesser  moun- 
tains and  surrounding  our  peak  as  with  an  an- 
gry sea. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

CALCUTTA THE  INDIAN  BEARER. 

Calcutta  is  an  English  introduction  to  the 
real  India  to  be  found  inland.  It  is  associ- 
ated with  the  stirring  deeds  of  the  founding 
of  the  British  Indian  Empire.  At  this  capi- 
tal Lord  Clive,  Warren  Hastings  and  others, 
with  far-seeing  diplomacy  and  intrepid  dar- 
ing, wove  the  nets  and  planned  the  cam- 
paigns that  absorbed  the  native  States  one 
after  another. 

Here  was  enacted  the  atrocity  of  the 
Black  Hole  of  Calcutta,  which  led  to  the 
overthrow  of  Bengal,  and  the  founding  of 
the  British-Indian  Empire.  In  the  early 
days  when  Calcutta  was  a  mere  trading  sta- 
tion of  the  East  India  Company,  the  Nawab 
of  Bengal,  having  made  war  on  the  station, 
threw  one  hundred  and  forty-six  of  the  sur- 
rendered garrison  into  a  cell  eighteen  feet 
square,  ventilated  only  from  a  small  window 
high  in  the  wall.  It  was  a  sweltering  night 
in  July.  The  Nawab  was  deaf  to  the  cries 
of  the  prisoners  dying  from  suffocation.  In 

134 


The  Rules  of  Caste.  135 

the  morning  when  the  doors  were  opened 
only  twenty-three  remained  alive. 

The  news  of  the  atrocity  crept  along  the 
shore,  and  went  out  to  sea.  It  reached  Lord 
Clive,  commanding  at  Madras,  and  soon  his 
little  army,  furious  for  vengeance,  overtook 
the  Nawab's  superior  force  on  the  field  of 
Plassey,  annihilated  it,  and  founded  the 
British-Indian  Empire. 

Since  then  the  Nawab  and  his  descendants 
have  had  a  good  deal  of  leisure  time. 

On  the  site  of  the  prison  in  which  the 
atrocity  was  committed  now  stands  the  Brit- 
ish postoffice.  In  the  yard  is  preserved  a  bit 
of  old  pavement  which,  according  to  a  brass 
tablet  nearby,  marks  the  site  of  the  black 
hole.  It  is  a  pity  the  walls  themselves  could 
not  have  been  preserved  like  the  residency 
buildings  at  Lucknow,  for  no  monument 
however  grand  can  touch  the  heart  like  the 
humble  ruins  where  the  sons  of  Britannia 
fought  and  died  for  the  little  green  isle  in 
the  northern  sea  which  all  English  people,  the 
world  over,  call  home. 

We  rode  to  the  Botanical  Garden  where 
the  celebrated  great  banyan  tree  spreads  its 
branches  over  many  acres.  It  has  over  a 
hundred  auxilliary  trunks,  and  is  still  grow- 


136  Oriental  Rambles. 

ing.  On  the  return  drive  we  visited  the  new 
Jaine  temple,  and  found  it  a  glitter  of  frag- 
ments of  colored  glass  set  in  stucco,  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  garden  littered  with  cast  iron 
Venuses  from  Europe  and  porcelain  dragons 
from  Japan,  all  very  new  and  tawdry. 

In  Calcutta,  according  to  the  custom  of 
the  country,  we  were  introduced  to  the  Indian 
bearer  or  private  servant.  If  one  is  to  con- 
tinue to  exist  in  India  it  becomes  a  dire  neces- 
sity to  employ  a  bearer  who  will  wait  upon 
you  at  the  table,  attend  to  your  room  duties, 
prepare  your  bath,  brush  and  lay  out  your 
clothes,  and  be  a  general  nuisance  so  far  as 
his  caste  will  permit. 

This  wretched  institution  of  caste  is  always 
in  the  way.  Your  bearer's  caste  may  permit 
him  to  bring  you  clean  water,  but  it  will  not 
permit  him  to  empty  the  slops.  He  must  em- 
ploy one  of  the  Sudra  caste  to  do  that.  The 
Sudra  caste  is  the  laborer,  the  tiller  of  the 
soil,  creator  of  wealth ;  but  it  is  forbidden 
that  he  acquire  wealth  or  learning,  or  hear 
the  reading  of  the  sacred  books.  He  and 
his  children  must  forever  continue  despised 
Sudras.  Caste  is  the  strictest  trade  union  in 
the  world.  If  a  Hindoo  performs  the  work 
or  assumes  the  privileges  of  another  caste  he 


Signs  of  Prosperity.  13  7 

defiles  himself,  endangers  his  soul,  and  low- 
ers the  standard  of  his  next  incarnation.  He 
also  postpones  the  time  of  his  final  Nirvana — 
a  dreadful  calamity,  for  next  to  curry  and 
rice  the  Hindoo  dearly  loves  rest. 

At  night  the  bearer  wraps  himself,  head 
and  feet,  in  a  blanket  and  lies  before  your 
doorway  to  guard  you  from  robbery  by  any 
unauthorized  person.  That  prerogative  he 
reserves  for  himself.  This  is  done,  however, 
only  in  the  legal  and  approved  system  of 
commissions. 

The  poor  Bengalese  is  a  yellowish-brown 
creature  with  a  striking  array  of  white  teeth, 
that  is,  when  they  are  not  stained  dark  red  by 
chewing  the  betel  nut.  His  face  displays  a 
fawning  smile  that  seems  constantly  on  the 
point  of  disappearance.  He  wears  a  won- 
drous turban.  A  length  of  cotton  cloth 
does  duty  as  trousers  by  being  looped 
around  the  thighs  with  one  end  brought  up 
between  the  legs.  Sometimes  the  other  end 
is  thrown  over  the  shoulder;  sometimes  a 
white  cotton  jacket  is  worn.  The  jacket  in- 
dictates  European  culture. 

An  Indian's  prosperity  can  be  judged 
by  his  avoirdupois.  Prosperity  and 
adiposity  go  together.  If  the  man  is 


138  Oriental  Rambles. 

poor  his  legs  are  thin,  bony  shanks  with 
knobs  at  the  knees.  The  calf  is  absent, 
but  he  is  liberally  supplied  with  feet  that 
would  leave  large  marks  in  the  mud,  with  toes 
diverging  like  a  chicken's.  When  he  stands, 
he  is  inclined  to  cross  his  legs  like  a  camp 
chair.  When  he  sits  on  his  heels  he  rests  his 
knees  comfortably  in  his  armpits.  Sometimes 
by  some  unaccountable  trick  of  contortion  he 
thrusts  his  knees  entirely  out  of  sight  behind 
his  shoulders,  and  then,  viewed  from  the 
front,  the  feet  seem  to  be  attached  directly 
to  the  body  like  a  turtle's.  If  you  see  a 
pair  of  fat  legs  projecting  from  a  loin 
cloth  you  know  whoever  lives  over  the  legs 
is  rich,  because  he  is  well  fed.  If  he  wears 
shoes,  socks  and  Boston  garters  you  know 
European  culture  has  attacked  his  feet  and  is 
progressing  upwards. 

Calcutta  is  sometimes  called  "The  City  of 
Palaces,"  owing  to  the  large  houses  of  the 
English  officers.  Their  houses  are  necessari- 
ly large  to  accommodate  the  large  number  of 
servants  it  is  customary  to  care  for.  This 
retinue  or  multitude  must  make  a  home  seem 
like  an  institution. 

At  sunset  we  drove  on  the  fashionable 
boulevard  beside  the  Hoogly  river.  At  that 


The  Drive  on  The  Esplanade.         139 

hour  it  is  thronged  with  equipages  of  the 
flower  and  chivalry  of  Anglo-Indian,  Hindoo 
and  Mohammedan  aristocracy.  The  showy 
trappings  of  the  horses  and  the  gorgeous  liv- 
eries of  the  footmen  and  outriders  form  a 
spectacle  that  cannot  be  equalled  outside  of  a 
circus  pageant. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

DARJEELING  AND  THE  HIMALAYAS. 

In  winter  the  plains  of  India  are  ter- 
ribly hot.  Ordinary  English  is  of  no  use  in 
describing  the  heat  of  summer. 

We  Americans  are  led  to  believe  that 
Yuma,  Arizona,  is  the  hottest  place  in  the 
world  because  it  was  a  resident  of  Yuma,  who 
having  died  and  gone  to  Hades,  sent  back  for 
a  blanket.  But  compared  with  India  in 
summer,  Yuma  is  said  to  have  a  cool  and 
salubrious  climate.  So  the  Anglo-Indian 
goes  in  summer  to  Darjeeling  on  the  back- 
bone of  the  world,  to  cool  off.  We  went  in 
the  winter  for  the  same  purpose. 

After  passing  through  a  tropical  plain  we 
reached  the  Ganges  which  at  this  point  is  a 
very  wide  river.  During  its  passage  on  the 
steamer  we  enjoyed  an  excellent  dinner.  On 
the  other  side  we  took  cars  again,  and  were 
soon  rolled  in  our  blankets  on  the  berths 
which  let  down  from  the  sides  of  the  cars. 

The  next  morning  we  were  crossing  a 
brown,  dusty,  barren  plain  with  frequent 


140 


Mountain  Climbing  by  Rail.         14 r 

groups  of  mud  houses  called  villages.  Dur- 
ing the  rainy  season  the  plains  are  green  with 
wheat  and  barley.  The  rainy  season  is  ex- 
pected to  come  once  a  year,  but  sometimes  it 
is  careless  about  it.  They  have  a  special 
God  to  look  after  the  rain  business,  too,  but 
he  is  a  lazy,  shiftless  fellow,  as  likely  to  drop 
the  rain  into  the  sea  or  on  the  mountains  as 
where  it  is  most  needed. 

About  noon  we  reached  the  foothill  and 
changed  to  mountain  cars.  These  little  cars 
are  much  like  open  trolleys.  They  are  built 
very  close  to  the  narrow  gauge  track  and  are 
pulled  by  a  hysterical,  little  engine  that  makes 
a  tremendous  noise. 

We  soon  plunged  into  the  forest,  winding 
about  the  hillsides,  climbing  gullies,  and  ever 
turning  and  curving  on  a  grade  so  steep  that 
we  could  feel  the  cars  lift. 

At  one  place  we  had  the  novel  experience 
of  being  run  over  by  our  own  engine.  The 
train  spiraled  around  a  hillock,  like  a  snake 
chasing  its  own  tail,  and  then  escaped  from 
the  top  by  a  bridge  to  the  mountain  side. 
We,  in  the  rear  car,  saw  our  own  engine  cross- 
ing the  bridge  over  our  heads. 

Two  men  ran  ahead  scattering  sand  on 
the  track.  They  filled  their  own  baskets,  too. 


142  Oriental  Rambles. 

There  is  a  story  that  once  one  fell  asleep  on 
the  track  while  waiting  for  the  train  to  over- 
take him  and  was  run  over.  It  was  not  true, 
but  in  other  respects  it  was  a  good  story. 

This  is  the  region  of  jungles  and  snakes, 
leopards  and  tigers.  From  one  of  these 
lonely  stations  the  message  was  once  flashed 
to  the  railway  headquarters  in  Calcutta, 
"Tiger  on  platform  eating  station  agent; 
wire  instructions."  We  know  this  is  true  be- 
cause Mark  Twain  invented  it. 

We  passed  many  tea  plantations  where  the 
steep  hillside  had  been  terraced.  The  hill 
people  have  decided  Mongolian  features. 
They  are  heavily  and  dirtily  clothed  and 
wear  fierce  knives  thrust  in  their  belts.  The 
women  resemble  North  American  Indian 
women  in  their  way  of  dressing  their  hair 
in  long  braids,  one  falling  in  front  of  each 
shoulder,  and  in  their  features  which  are 
round,  flat  and  copper  colored,  with  high 
cheek  bones.  They  carry  incredible  loads 
on  their  backs,  steadied  by  bands  across  the 
forehead. 

We  were  away  above  the  region  of  the 
palms,  but  the  trees  of  the  dense  jungle  were 
festooned  with  orchids.  At  times  we  caught 
glimpses  of  the  plain  of  Hindustan;  and  as 


Iliinalava  Children. 


Sunrise  in  the  Himalayas.  H3 

we  went  higher  it  lengthened  and  broadened 
until  it  was  spread  out  like  a  map,  brown  and 
smoky,  and  slashed  here  and  there  by  the  sil- 
very ribbons  of  the  streams.  Finally  a  bank 
of  fog  came  rolling  down  the  valleys,  pour- 
ing over  the  cliffs  like  waterfalls  and  closing 
out  the  view. 

When  we  reached  Darjeeling  we  were  over 
a  mile  high.  For  the  first  time  since  leaving 
Japan  overcoats  were  needed.  We  rode  to 
the  hotel  in  rikishas,  along  a  path  that  al- 
most overhung  a  deep  valley.  I  believe  it 
often  rains  in  Darjeeling, — the  rest  of  the 
time  it  is  foggy.  Sometimes  Nature  runs 
out  of  fog,  and  then  the  mountains  may  be 
seen  at  their  best.  The  buildings  are  mor- 
tised into  the  mountains,  one  end  being 
plunged  into  the  hillside  and  the  other  sup- 
ported on  stilts  as  slender  as  Hindoo  legs. 

From  the  hotel  there  was  a  stupendous 
panorama.  Below  yawned  an  abyss  of  a 
valley.  Away  down  in  its  dark  depths  was 
a  raging  torrent.  Across  the  valley  was  a 
tree-clad  hill.  Over  its  crest,  far  beyond, 
arose  the  rugged  tumble  of  dark  mountains 
whose  cliffs  and  chasms  were  barred  and 
spotted  with  fog  banks.  Still  higher,  far 
above  the  intervening  clouds,  a  snowy  peak 


144  Oriental  Rambles. 

glittered  with  the  whiteness  of  everlasting  ice. 
This  was  Kinchinjanga, — over  five  miles 
high.  Other  peaks,  scarcely  lower,  stretched 
away  into  the  uncertainty  of  distance  in  a 
gleaming,  jagged  band  of  white. 

The  next  morning  we  arose  at  four  o'clock, 
and  before  dawn  were  stumbling  our  way 
on  horseback  up  the  trail  to  Tiger  Hill  to 
see  the  sunrise  on  Mount  Everest,  twenty- 
nine  thousand  feet  high, — the  loftiest  moun- 
tain in  the  Himalayas. 

When  we  reached  the  summit,  gray  dawn 
was  just  breaking.  We  were  on  a  foothill 
of  the  first  range.  In  the  deep  valley  be- 
tween us  and  the  main  range  the  gloom  of 
night  still  lingered.  Beyond  this  murky 
chasm  rose  the  abrupt  walls  of  the  Hima- 
layas, height  on  height,  cloud-scarred,  harsh 
and  forbidding.  Peak  after  peak  in  snowy 
confusion  led  afar  and  away  into  the  western 
sky,  until  peaks  and  clouds  blended  in  the 
gray  of  dawn.  Cold,  cruel,  stupendous, 
these  cloud-defying  mountains  crush  the  be- 
holder with  their  awe-inspiring  majesty. 

No  wonder  the  Hindoos  located  their  di- 
vinities on  these  inaccessible  mountain  tops. 
Brahma,  the  Creator, — Vishnu,  the  Preserv- 
er,— and  Shiva,  the  Destroyer,  hold  their 


In  the  Bazaars.  H5 

courts  there  in  greater  seclusion  than  did 
Jupiter  and  Juno  on  Mount  Olympus. 

In  the  east,  beyond  the  purple  plains  of 
Hindustan,  a  crimson  line  appeared  along  the 
horizon.  It  broadened  and  lengthened  'and, 
flaming  upward,  crimsoned  the  edges  of  the 
clouds.  Here  and  there  cloud  upon  cloud 
was  touched  with  gold  and  copper  until  the 
east  became  a  crimson  lake,  with  purple  rifts, 
and  golden  shores.  Then  came  a  brighter 
glow  with  the  glitter  of  polished  brass,  just 
at  the  horizon;  brighter  and  brighter  it 
gleamed,  and  a  ray  of  sunlight  shot  straight 
to  the  snowy  peaks,  suffusing  their  snow-fields 
with  a  rosy  radiance. 

In  the  native  bazaars  may  be  seen  a  few 
Thibetans  and  many  strange  people  of  the 
hill  tribes.  The  women  are  heavily  loaded 
with  ornaments  of  silver  and  brass  curiously 
set  with  turquois,  malachite  and  agate.  In 
these  bazaars  may  be  bought  many  strange 
and  curious  things,  such  as  prayer  wheels, 
idols,  and  charms  made  of  human  ashes 
from  Thibet.  These  charms  are  carried  in 
small  boxes  suspended  from  a  cord  around 
the  neck.  The  boxes  are  sometimes  of 
brass,  and  sometimes  of  tin  taken  from 
Standard  Oil  cans, — which  shows  how  the 


146  Oriental  Rambles. 

light  of  American  civilization  is  penetrating 
the  remotest  regions  of  Asia. 

These  hill  people  are  good  salesmen. 
When  the  traveler  appears  in  the  street  the 
glad  tidings  spread  rapidly.  From  doorways 
and  booths  come  the  traders  with  obsequious 
smiles,  each  with  a  curio  of  more  or  less  an- 
tiquity half  concealed  in  his  voluminous 
sleeve.  As  each  one  offers  his  wares  he  ex- 
plains in  broken  English: 

"This  Buddha  brought  from  a  monastery 
in  Napaul." 

"This  prayer-wheel  was  used  by  the  Grand 
Llama  of  Thibet  and  smuggled  over  the  bor- 
der." 

"This  bracelet,  very  antique,  was  worn  by 
the  Squegee  of  Gazoozulum." 

Another  serious  old  trader  produced  the 
short  brass  knife  used  by  Buddhist  priests  as 
a  symbol  of  office,  and  solemnly  related  this 
strange  history: 

"Sacred  knife  not  made  by  man, — no," 
and  he  rolled  his  eyes  devoutly,  "made  by 
hand  of  God  himself  and  dropped  from  hea- 
ven in  a  thunder-cloud  to  mountain  top,  where 
Grand  Llama  found  it  buried  deep  in  rock. 
Grand  Llama  with  it  slew  seven  dragons  of 
the  air  and  then  present  to  me,  because  I  hon- 


A  Brass  God  with  a  Carbuncle.       147 

est  man, — not  lie;  but  I,  very  poor  man.  I 
sell  you  for  sixteen  rupees." 

The  Philosopher  said  I  would  be  sold 
if  I  bought  it;  and  as  the  story  seemed 
the  most  remarkable  thing  about  it,  I  kept  the 
story  and  returned  the  knife.  The  "honest 
man"  would  then  take  ten  rupees,  and  finally 
would  take  an  offer. 

There  was  a  brass  God  from  Thibet.  At 
least  by  calling  on  the  reserve  stock  of 
credulity  wise  travelers  should  keep  on  hand 
for  emergencies, — I  was  willing  to  believe  it 
came  from  Thibet.  This  brass  idol  from 
Thibet  had  a  beautiful  carbuncle  (the  jewel 
kind)  on  his  neck.  I  longed  to  possess 
it  and  bargained  for  it  according  to  custom, 
but  did  not  buy  it,  because  the  owner  would 
not  come  down  the  usual  fifty  per  cent. 
When  I  was  seated  in  the  rikisha,  he  sadly 
shook  his  head  and  repeated,  "God  very  an- 
tique." I  expected  he  would  relent,  but  the 
last  I  saw  of  him  he  was  standing  irresolute 
in  his  doorway  with  the  idol  in  his  hand. 
And  so  it  passed  out  of  my  life  forever,  and 
I  have  mourned  it  ever  since — that  brass 
God  from  Thibet  with  the  carbuncle  on  its 
neck. 

The  ride  down  the  mountain  was  a  coast,  a 


1 48  Oriental  Rambles. 

toboggan  slide,  a  shute  the  shutes,  and  a 
merry-go-round  all  in  one.  When  dusk  came 
on,  a  torch  was  lighted  above  the  engine. 
That  was  thoughtful.  It  lighted  up  the  for- 
est, gave  the  only  light  for  the  cars,  and  kept 
the  tigers  off. 

The  next  morning  at  dawn  we  had  break- 
fast on  the  boat  crossing  the  Ganges.  The 
waters  were  glassy.  The  reflections  of  the 
trees  on  the  low  banks  were  perfect.  Here 
and  there  widening  circles  of  ripples  showed 
where  fish  came  to  the  surface  to  get  the  early 
flies. 

When  we  reached  the  opposite  bank  hun- 
dreds of  natives  were  performing  their  de- 
votions and  ablutions  in  the  sacred  stream, 
or  sitting  silently  on  their  heels,  their  limbs 
benumbed  by  the  chill.  They  were  appar- 
ently engaged  in  sluggish  contemplation. 
The  sun  came  up  a  dull  red  globe,  the  Ganges 
responded,  the  mists  of  morning  lifted  and 
the  natives  one  by  one  arose  and  went  their 
way. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

BENARES,  THE  SACRED  CITY. 

Benares  is  celebrated  in  India  as  the  most 
sacred  of  cities, — and  elsewhere  as  the  place 
where  the  chiseled  brass  comes  from. 

Here  we  had  the  first  glimpse  of  the  real 
India  of  our  dreams.  Here  are  the  remains 
of  the  oriental  magnificence  and  wealth 
of  Ormuz  and  of  Ind.  Here  we  saw 
the  real  Indian  almost  free  from  the 
influences  that  are  leading  him  gradually — 
very,  very  gradually, — out  of  the  darkness  of 
superstition  into  the  light  of  the  new  civiliza- 
tion. Here  he  is  unpuffed  up  by  the  yeast  of 
British  culture.  Here  pilgrims  come  from 
the  uttermost  regions  of  India  to  worship  the 
savage-looking  idols,  or  rather  worship  before 
them,  and  to  bathe  in  the  sacred  waters  of 
the  Ganges. 

As  Mecca  is  sacred  to  the  Mohammedan, 
so  is  Benares  sacred  to  the  Hindoo.  A  pil- 
grimage to  these  places  is  a  virtuous  and  soul- 
benefiting  thing,  and  greatly  improves  the 
chances  of  a  happy  hereafter. 

The   first  place  visited  was   the   Monkey 

149 


15°  Oriental  Rambles. 

Temple,  dedicated  to  the  Monkey  God. 
Here  innumerable  monkeys  make  their  home 
and  a  very  good  living,  for  it  is  the  custom 
for  visitors  to  buy  nuts  from  the  gate-keeper. 
The  monkeys  collect  the  nuts  as  you  go  in. 
They  are  very  entertaining  while  the  rations 
last,  and  then,  like  some  human  guests,  they 
make  off  for  newer  friends,  or  scamper  up 
the  roof  and  deliberately  turn  their  backs,  cut- 
ting your  acquaintance. 

In  this  temple  we  saw  the  ceremony  of  hair- 
cutting  on  a  five-year-old  girl.  The  child  en- 
tered the  court-yard  in  the  company  of  par- 
ents and  relatives,  followed  apparently  by 
friends  and  neighbors.  In  the  rear  of  the 
procession  came  musicians  with  flutes,  cym- 
bals and  drums,  and  several  nautch  girls  sing- 
ing a  monotonous  air  with  considerable  vio- 
lence. All  the  musicians  and  nautch  girls 
seated  themselves  in  a  circle  on  the  pavement 
of  the  open  court  with  the  maiden  in  the 
center. 

The  priest  in  ceremonial  robes  proceeded 
to  shear  her  locks  and  shave  her  scalp.  In 
the  meantime  the  musicians  beat  the  tom- 
toms, crashed  the  cymbals  and  brought  forth 
ear-piercing  shrieks  from  the  flutes,  while  the 
nautch  girls  sang  a  weird  chant.  The  mon- 


A  Ceremonial  Hair-Cutting.         is1 

keys,  perched  upon  the  cornices,  gravely 
watched  the  proceedings.  The  child  being 
shorn  and  shaven,  her  garments  were  re- 
moved and  others  of  gorgeous  silk,  resplen- 
dent with  tinsel  and  spangles,  were  placed 
upon  her,  and  garlands  of  flowers  were  placed 
about  her  neck.  Then  the  nautch  girls  ceased 
their  singing  and  danced  a  squirmy  dance, 
waving  their  bare  arms  to  lively  music. 

The  guide  explained  that  this  was  a  re- 
ligious rite  preliminary  to  a  betrothal,  which 
left  its  real  nature  in  considerable  doubt.  It 
was  evidently  one  of  the  numerous  religious 
shaves  practiced  upon  the  Hindoos.  Many 
of  the  ordinary  things  of  life  are  considered 
as  religious  rites,  at  which  a  priest  must 
officiate,  with  his  usual  fee.  Between  fees  to 
the  priests,  and  taxes  to  the  government,  the 
thin-legged  Hindoo  has  a  narrow  margin  for 
curry  and  rice. 

Close  to  the  Monkey  Temple  is  the  house 
and  garden  of  the  Holy  Man  of  Benares. 
This  man  is  a  real  God,  and  was,  long  before 
he  died,  for  the  good  man  has  been  dead  and 
in  Nirvana  some  time.  He  was  a  very 
learned  Yogi,  and  in  such  a  state  of  perfect 
sanctification  that  nothing  whatever  inter- 
ested him.  The  guide  pointed  out  his  flower- 


152  Oriental  Rambles. 

strewn  grave  under  a  marble  canopy  and  ex- 
plained that  the  accepted  way  for  a  good 
Hindoo  to  return  to  dust  is  by  burning;  but 
if  one  prefers  to  be  buried  it  is  allowable,  pro- 
vided he  is  buried  alive,  for  no  dead  body 
should  contaminate  the  earth.  Therefore, 
the  sacred  man  being  full  of  years,  and  near 
unto  death,  and  knowing  through  his  occult 
power  the  exact  moment  when  death  would 
overtake  him,  caused  himself  to  be  buried 
alive  just  one  hour  before  he  died. 

To  the  Philosopher's  materialistic  mind  it 
was  a  little  puzzling  to  understand  how  it 
was  that  he  could  be  killed  by  burying  just 
one  hour  before  he  died  a  natural  death.  The 
guide  entered  into  a  long  explanation  about 
the  astral  body  and  other  things  theosophical, 
trying  to  make  the  point  clear  to  the  Philoso- 
pher, but  all  that  he  seemed  to  grasp  was  that 
the  man  was  dead,  and  that  it  cost  something 
to  see  where  he  was  buried. 

The  Temple  of  the  Sacred  Bulls  is  a  place 
that  fortunately  can  be  viewed  by  unbelievers 
from  a  platform.  The  Philosopher  desired 
to  get  a  nearer  photograph  of  the  sacred 
beasts  in  their  sanctuary,  but  the  floor  of  the 
temple,  being  a  stable,  was  as  dirty  as  neg- 
lect and  wet  weather  could  make  it.  After 


The  Lin  gam  and  Triangle.  153 

long  hesitation  he  resigned  himself  to  the 
probably  ruin  of  his  shoes  for  the  sake  of  the 
photograph,  and  proceeded  to  cautiously  step 
down  into  the  court;  but  an  argus-eyed  at- 
tendant saw  his  design  and  in  great  alarm 
stopped  him,  saying  that  the  feet  of  an  un- 
believer would  pollute  the  place.  The  Phi- 
losopher desisted,  but  his  feelings  were  hurt. 

These  sacred  cattle  roam  at  will  about  the 
city,  helping  themselves  to  the  best  in  the  way 
of  food  from  the  merchant's  supplies.  When 
they  blockade  the  narrow  streets  the  people 
give  them  resounding  thumps  in  spite  of  their 
sanctity,  but  they  move  out  of  the  way  with 
the  deliberation  and  dignity  becoming  their 
lofty  estate.  The  ancient  wise  men  knew 
that  by  making  them  sacred  they  would  pre- 
serve through  any  misfortune  the  species  of 
this  most  useful  beast  of  burden. 

The  Golden  Temple  is  a  small  affair  but 
very  sacred.  It  is  overlaid,  inside  and  out, 
with  yellow  gold.  We  were  not  permitted 
to  enter. 

Far  more  curious  was  the  less  pretentious 
temple  dedicated  to  the  Elephant  God.  In 
the  center  of  the  temple,  on  an  altar,  was  a 
stone  post  called  the  lingam.  Offerings  of 
flowers  were  at  its  base.  The  Hindoo  my- 


154  Oriental  Rambles. 

thology  ascribes  sex  to  the  creators  of  heaven 
and  earth.  The  lingam  represents  the  male 
element.  The  female  element  is  indicated  by 
two  interlaced  equal-sided  triangles  forming 
a  six-pointed  star  like  a  masonic  emblem.  Be- 
fore these  altars  the  natives  worship,  gar- 
landing the  lingam  with  flowers,  and  pouring 
upon  it  water  from  brass  urns  which  they  have 
brought  on  their  heads  from  the  Ganges. 

The  most  interesting  part  of  Benares,  and 
perhaps  of  all  India,  is  the  river  front.  Here 
is  congregated  all  that  is  Indian  in  custom, 
architecture  and  religion.  It  is  a  very  sacred 
spot,  for  here  one  of  their  divinities,  the  Ele- 
phant God,  made  his  last  appearance  upon 
earth,  and  a  river  direct  from  Paradise  finds 
its  underground  union  with  the  Ganges. 

Benares  is  the  most  ancient  city  of  India, 
and  is  expected  to  last  until  it  becomes  a  part 
of  Paradise  itself.  The  city  is  so  sacred  that 
any  person  who  dies  within  its  limits  will  go 
straight  to  heaven  regardless  of  his  religion 
or  the  lack  of  it.  It  is  a  very  popular  place 
to  die  in.  But  the  other  side  of  the  river  op- 
posite the  city  is  profane  and  accursed,  and 
whoever  dies  there  will  be  born  again  a  jack- 
ass. 

So  firmly  grounded  is  this  belief  that  while 


A  Safe  Place  to  Die.  155 

the  sacred  side  is  crowded  with  palaces  and 
temples  and  thronged  with  humanity,  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  river,  a  few  hundred  feet 
away,  is  abandoned  by  man.  One  can  see  the 
jackals,  wild  dogs  and  other  wild  beasts 
roaming  the  barren  sands  in  perfect  security. 

The  Philosopher  had  a  new  scheme.  He 
proposed  to  lay  out  a  first  addition  to  Ben- 
ares on  the  jackass  side  of  the  river  and  boom 
it  in  true  western  fashion  with  brass  bands, 
barbecues  and  auctions,  and  give  a  non-jack- 
ass insurance  policy  with  every  corner  lot. 

Ridiculous !  Who  ever  heard  of  a  non- 
jackass  insurance  policy? 

The  Rajah  of  Benares  has  a  palace  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river,  but  some  distance  up. 
He  is,  however,  so  suspicious  of  the  location 
that  whenever  any  of  his  household  are  taken 
ill  they  are  hustled  across  the  river  to  the 
guaranteed  safe  side  to  await  there  the  re- 
sult of  their  disease.  If  they  survive  they  re- 
joice that  they  have  escaped  the  superlative 
joys  of  heaven,  and  give  thanks  for  the  cure 
to  the  prayers  of  the  priest,  but  if  they  suc- 
cumb, the  result  is  ascribed  to  the  mysterious 
dispensation  of  an  all-wise  and  unscrupulous 
providence. 

We  took  an  observation  boat  and  floated 


156  Oriental  Rambles. 

down  the  river  past  scenes  so  strange,  so 
bizarre,  that  they  baffle  description.  The 
river  makes  a  majestic  curve  with  Benares  on 
the  convexity.  This  is  called  Sheva's  Bow. 
The  level  of  the  city  is  perhaps  a  hundred 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  river.  The  bluff  is 
occupied  by  a  continuous  row  of  temples  and 
palaces  belonging  to  the  various  princes  and 
rulers  of  the  Indias;  for  this  is  the  Newport, 
the  Long  Branch,  and  the  Ocean  Grove  of 
the  Hindoo  world  amalgamated  into  one  be- 
wildering mass. 

At  certain  seasons  of  the  year  all  good 
Hindoos,  brahmin,  prince  or  peasant,  make 
a  pilgrimage  to  Benares  to  worship  and  bathe 
in  the  Ganges,  and  to  carry  to  their  homes 
some  of  the  sacred  water. 

From  the  palaces  and  temples  on  the  bluff, 
stone  steps  and  terraces  descend  to  the  water's 
edge.  These  steps,  or  gauts  as  they  are 
called,  swarm  with  the  multitude,  robed  in 
white  and  many  colors. 

Standing  waist  deep  in  the  water  were  men, 
women  and  children  seriously  performing 
their  devotions.  As  the  Hindoo  walks  down 
the  steps  into  the  river  he  clasps  his  hands, 
bows  to  the  Goddess  Gunga,  dips  his  hands 
in  the  water  and  applies  it  to  his  forehead, 


The  River  Front  as  Seen  From  a  Boat.  157 

breast,  and  mouth,  as  certain  prayers  are  re- 
peated. At  times  the  hands  are  clasped,  or 
elevated,  or  the  body  bent  in  adoration.  The 
devotions  being  completed,  a  brass  urn  is 
filled  with  the  water,  and  he  returns  to  the 
steps  where  he  proceeds  to  wash  his  clothes. 
His  winding  sheet  is  removed,  washed  by 
whipping  on  the  stones  and  trailing  in  the 
water,  then  dried  in  the  wind.  The  winding 
cloth  is  then  replaced  around  the  body  and 
the  loin  cloth  surreptitiously  removed  and 
subjected  to  the  same  process.  When  in  this 
manner  his  body,  his  soul  and  his  raiment 
are  cleansed,  and  he  is  ready  to  re-enter  the 
streets,  he  approaches  a  priest  who  sits  under 
a  wide-spreading  basket-work  umbrella  call- 
ing out  incantations.  He  kneels  before  the 
priest  and  receives  upon  his  forehead  the 
mark  in  paint  that  signifies  his  caste  and  an- 
nounces to  all  the  world  that  he  has  fulfilled 
his  religious  duties.  He  then  departs  up 
the  steps  carrying  his  brass  urn  of  sacred 
water  upon  his  head. 

We  passed  box-like  pedestals  standing  on 
the  terraces.  These  were  the  suttee  towers 
where  formerly  widows  burned  themselves 
on  the  funeral  pyres  of  their  husbands.  By 
the  river  bank  were  the  earthly  remains  of  a 


158  Oriental  Rambles. 

few  Hindoos,  the  men  wrapped  head  and 
body  in  white,  and  the  women  in  red  winding 
sheets.  Some  were  lying  with  their  feet  in 
the  sacred  stream,  while  others  who  had  re- 
ceived the  last  rites  of  the  river  were  being 
consumed  on  the  funeral  pyres. 

A  Rajah  was  ascending  the  steps  to  pay 
his  respects  to  a  Holy  Man.  A  gorgeous  red 
cloak  with  gold  spangles  hung  from  his  shoul- 
ders. An  attendant  held  an  umbrella-like  af- 
fair over  his  head,  and  four  guards  marched 
behind.  At  the  steps  was  moored  the  Ra- 
jah's boat,  a  two-storied  affair,  the  upper  deck 
shaded  with  awnings,  under  which  a  silver 
chair  stood  on  rich  rugs  and  tiger  skins. 

Along  the  river  bank  could  be  seen  those 
religious  fanatics  called  fakirs  or  yogis. 
Some  sat  in  profound  meditation,  their  naked 
bodies  and  bowed  heads  covered  with  ashes. 
One,  in  whose  dark  eyes  burned  the  fire  of 
mania,  darted  about  the  throng  in  aimless  ac- 
tivity. He  was  naked  except  for  the  most 
rudimentary  loin  cloth.  His  body  was  mark- 
ed in  stripes  with  ashes,  like  a  zebra,  and  his 
hair  hung  in  matted  ropes  to  the  ground. 

One  fakir  has  achieved  earthly  fame  and 
spiritual  credit  as  the  standing  man.  He 
stood  upon  the  left  leg,  the  right  foot  resting 


The  Sacred  Ganges.  159 

on  the  left  knee.  Both  arms  were  extended 
straight  up  and  clasped  over  his  head.  He 
stood  upon  a  post  in  the  water  balanced  like 
a  stork.  It  was  said  that  every  day  for  years 
he  had  been  in  that  position  and  no  one  had 
seen  him  move  during  business  hours.  Others 
attain  a  state  of  ecstacy  and  remain  in  a  fixed 
position  until  muscular  atrophy  results.  It 
is  a  form  of  voluntary  catalepsy  possible  only 
to  those  religious  monomaniacs  who  have  ar- 
rived at  that  beatific  state  by  continuous  auto- 
hypnotism.  Some  of  the  things  they  are  said 
to  do  are  apparently  impossible,  such  as  sit- 
ting or  lying  on  beds  of  sharp  tacks,  or  walk- 
ing in  the  fire  without  injury.  These  persons 
are  revered  as  saints  by  the  Hindoos. 

One  of  these  saints  sat  alone  on  a  post  in 
the  water.  He  wore  a  coarse  brown  cloak, 
and  a  little  brown  rag  fluttered  in  the  wind 
from  a  stick  planted  beside  him.  He  was 
greatly  respected.  He  was  a  continuous-pray- 
ing yogi.  He  prayed  aloud,  and  whenever 
he  bowed  to  the  river  he  held  his  nose.  This 
was  not  strange,  inasmuch  as  the  river  at  that 
point  had  more  the  appearance  of  mullaga- 
tawny  soup  than  a  sacred  stream,  carrying  as 
it  did  the  city  sewage  and  sundry  vegetable 
and  animal  remains,  for  which  the  citizens 


160  Oriental  Rambles. 

had  no  further  use.  However,  these  details 
did  not  disturb  the  pilgrims,  who  strong  in 
their  faith  and  belief,  considered  nothing  im- 
pure or  unclean  which  had  come  in  contact 
with  the  sacred  waters. 

But,  as  I  said  before,  this  particular  saint 
was  holding  his  nose.  As  it  is  customary  for 
travelers  to  ask  questions  of  a  guide  whether 
he  could  possibly  know  the  answer  or  not,  we 
inquired  the  reason  for  the  aforesaid  nose- 
holding,  and  immediately  struck  a  well  of 
curious  information. 

It  appears  that  the  Hindoo  worship  is  very 
elaborate  in  its  formality,  and  their  Gods  very 
particular  about  due  respect  being  shown 
them,  each  requiring  a  special  formality.  As 
there  are  thirty-three  millions  of  Gods,  three 
million  of  whom  have  terrible  reputations  for 
revenge  if  slighted,  it  will  be  clear  that  it  is 
not  all  jam  keeping  them  good-natured. 

The  guide  said  that  when  a  Hindoo  in  the 
course  of  his  prayers  utters  the  word  Brahma 
he  must  press  the  right  nostril  with  the  right 
thumb.  When  Sheva  is  implored  the  right 
forefinger  must  compress  the  left  nostril. 
Vishnu  claims  another  finger,  and  other  Gods 
have  reserved  the  remaining  digits.  When 
their  names  are  uttered  aloud,  and  in  rapid 


Too  Much  Biography.  161 

succession,  the  effect  is  somewhat  startling  to 
the  ear  and  shocking  to  the  sight. 

The  guide  could  not  tell  the  Philosopher 
what  Gods  were  appealed  to  when  the  thumb 
was  applied  to  the  tip  of  the  nose,  and  the 
fingers  gently  undulated,  but  after  some  de- 
liberation concluded  that  it  might  be  an  ap- 
peal to  the  Christian  Gods  as  he  had  seen  the 
rite  performed  among  the  English  soldiers. 

This  guide  confidently  assured  us  that  he 
was  a  very  truthful  man,  good  Hindoo,  very 
high  caste,  Brahma  pundit  caste,  privileged 
to  cook  food  for  the  high  priests,  and  was 
above  accepting  presents  for  charity;  but  if 
we  were  pleased  with  his  services  he  would 
not  refuse  a  present  in  case  such  great  lords 
as  we  should  offer  it,  and  he  would  thank  us 
kindly,  and  appreciate  it  very  much  as  he  was 
a  very  poor  man  and  he  hoped  we  would  not 
forget  him.  At  that  point  the  Philosopher 
remarked  that  would  be  about  all  the  bio- 
graphy we  cared  to  know,  and  he  might  there- 
after, as  in  the  past,  confine  his  remarks  to 
history  and  fiction. 

The  Mohammedan  mosque  whose  two 
slender  minarets  are  the  most  prominent  land- 
marks in  Benares,  was  built  by  the  last  Grand 
Mogul,  a  Mohammedan  Emperor,  who  de- 


1 62  Oriental  Rambles. 

stroyed  a  temple  of  Sheva  to  make  room  for 
it.  The  Hindoos  believe  it  was  this  act  of 
sacrilege  which  brought  ruin  upon  him  and 
his  house.  Along  the  river  front  are  several 
half  buried  and  ancient  palaces  destroyed  by 
an  earthquake.  Our  guide  explained  that 
foundations  are  insecure  because  the  river 
from  Paradise  flows  beneath,  and  if  the  gods 
were  displeased  they  would  now  and  then  let 
a  palace  drop  in. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

LUCKNOW  AND   CAWNPORE THE   INDIAN 

MUTINY. 

From  Benares  we  crossed  a  monoton- 
ous plain  of  wheat  fields  nearing  the  harvest. 
When  the  grain  crop  is  good  there  is  plenty 
in  India,  but  when  the  rains  fail,  as  they  fre- 
quently do,  the  poor  coolie  starves.  Some 
important  irrigation  works  undertaken  by 
the  government  are  expected  to  relieve  the 
suffering,  but  India  is  generally  hungry.  Un- 
der the  old  regime  the  population  was  kept 
down  somewhat  by  wars,  thuggee,  suttee  and 
drowning  of  female  infants,  all  of  which  have 
been  put  down  by  the  English  who  prefer  to 
dig  canals  for  irrigating  and  let  the  popula- 
tion grow. 

It  is  a  dusty,  hot  ride  to  Lucknow,  enliv- 
ened by  an  occasional  glimpse  of  an  elephant 
laboring  in  the  fields  or  playing  omnibus  for 
a  family,  groups  of  wild  monkeys  swinging 
from  the  trees,  or  herons  stalking  pompously 
through  the  ponds. 

In  Lucknow  we  were  reminded  not  only 
of  the  splendor  of  the  Kings  of  Oude,  which 


164  Oriental  Rambles. 

can  be  touched  lightly  as  a  thing  apart,  but 
of  Anglo-Saxon  suffering  and  heroism  in 
connection  with  the  Indian  mutiny  of  1857, 
which  must  bring  to  every  English-speaking 
person  a  thrill  of  sympathy  and  pride. 

The  defence  of  the  English  Residency 
against  overwhelming  odds,  and  the  valor  of 
the  rescuing  columns  who  cut  their  bloody 
way  through  hordes  of  rebels,  are  as  heroic 
as  any  deeds  since  history  began. 

The  causes  of  the  rebellion  of  the  native 
troops  were  many.  Perhaps  one  of  the  most 
important  was  insufficient  regard  given  by 
the  English  officials  for  the  rules  of  caste 
and  religious  prejudices  which,  to  the  Indians 
are  more  important  than  life  itself.  For  in- 
stance the  cartridges  were  coated  with  the  fat 
of  cows  and  sheep.  To  handle  such  animal 
products  and  especially  to  hold  them  in  the 
mouth  as  the  rules  required  was  to  be  defiled. 
It  took  a  mutiny  to  change  that  rule. 

The  consideration  given  the  religious  sen- 
sibilities of  the  natives  at  that  time  is  indi- 
cated by  Bayard  Taylor  who  visited  India 
shortly  before  the  mutiny  and  wrote : 

"In  India  all  places  of  worship,  except  the 
inner  shrines — the  Holy  of  Holies — are  open 
to  the  conquerors,  who  walk  in,  booted  and 


The  Relief  of  Lucknow.  165 

spurred,  where  the  Hindoo  or  Moslem  put 
their  shoes  off  their  feet.  I  should  willingly 
have  complied  with  this  form  as  I  did  in  other 
Moslem  countries,  but  was  told  that  it  was 
now  never  expected  of  a  European  and  would 
be,  in  fact,  a  depreciation  of  his  dignity." 

The  English  Resident  Agent  occupied  a 
mansion  surrounded  by  the  barracks  of  the 
native  troops  or  sepoys  in  the  service  of  the 
East  India  Company.  At  Lucknow  less  than 
seven  hundred  remained  faithful.  They, 
with  about  seven  hundred  English  troops, 
intrenched  themselves  in  the  Residency 
grounds  and  gathered  therein  all  the  foreign 
residents  and  native  sympathizers,  men,  wo- 
men and  children,  to  the  number  of  twenty- 
nine  hundred  souls.  In  this  frail  encampment 
they  were  besieged  for  nearly  six  months  by 
fifty  thousand  fanatical  rebels  with  artillery. 
The  grounds  were  raked  with  musket  bullets 
and  the  buildings  riddled  with  cannon  shots. 
The  men  lived  day  and  night  in  the  trenches, 
and  the  women  and  children  in  cellars  and 
underground  passage-ways. 

After  three  months  the  thunder  of  the  guns 
of  Sir  Henry  Havelock's  relieving  army  was 
heard  on  the  Cawnpore  road.  Foot  by  foot 
they  fought  their  way  to  the  Residency,  but 


1 66  Oriental  Rambles. 

arrived  so  weakened  and  decimated  that  they 
could  only  join  the  besieged  garrison  and 
await  further  relief. 

At  last  it  came  with  Sir  Colin  Campbell's 
Highlanders.  By  forced  marches  in  the  heat 
of  the  Indian  summer,  during  which  the  tem- 
perature ranged  betwen  120  and  138  degrees 
in  the  shade,  it  cut  its  bloody  tunnel  through 
hordes  of  rebels  by  continuous  fighting 
against  tremendous  odds.  Nothing  deterred 
them.  After  viewing  the  slaughter  of  the 
women  and  children  at  Cawnpore,  their  fury 
knew  no  bounds.  It  was  a  continuous  mas- 
sacre. At  last  the  Residency  was  relieved, 
but  of  the  gallant  band  of  twenty-nine  hun- 
dred only  nine  hundred  were  alive. 

The  Residency  buildings  remain  as  they 
were  left  by  the  siege, — crumbled,  blackened, 
shot-riddled  ruins, — gradually  being  over- 
grown with  ivy — fitting  monuments  to  Eng- 
lish valor. 

At  Lucknow  we  got  our  first  impressions 
of  the  glory  of  the  Mongul  Emperors  and  of 
the  splendid  palaces  they  built.  The  last 
Nawab,  when  reduced  to  semi-imbecility  by 
dissipation,  spent  his  time  dancing  the  nautch, 
while  the  English  annexed  his  kingdom, 
thereby  adding  another  cause  for  the  mutiny. 


The  Massacre  of  Cawnpore.          167 

The  Imambarra,  the  tomb  of  a  Nawab,  is 
a  dazzling  white  marble  building  capped  with 
groups  of  white  pavilions.  In  its  gardens  are 
fountains,  and  some  British  lions  painted 
with  stripes  to  represent  tigers.  The  Indians 
do  not  understand  lions,  but  have  a  whole- 
some fear  of  tigers. 

The  massive  and  ornate  Turkish  gate, 
nearby,  stands  out,  a  shining  white  pile 
against  the  wonderful  blue  of  the  sky.  In 
these  interior  cities  the  soot  and  smoke  of 
burning  coal  are  unknown  and  the  buildings 
retain  their  pure,  white  beauty  untarnished 
for  hundreds  of  years. 

We  stopped  for  an  afternoon  at  Cawn- 
pore on  our  way  to  Agra.  There  is  nothing 
to  see  at  Cawnpore  except  the  monuments  to 
the  garrison  massacred  during  the  mutiny. 
Here  the  garrison  after  a  hopeless  defense 
capitulated  to  the  rebels,  only  to  be  murdered 
at  leisure.  Most  of  the  women  and  children 
were  kept  prisoners  until  the  rebel  leader, 
Nana  Sahib,  realized  that  the  English  would 
retake  the  place.  When  the  roar  of  their 
cannon  drew  near  he  ordered  the  prisoners 
slaughtered.  Three  Mohammedan  and  two 
Hindoo  soldiers  were  selected  for  the  bloody 
work.  With  naked  swords  they  entered  the 


1 68  Oriental  Rambles. 

inclosure  where  the  defenseless  women  and 
children  were  encaged.  When  the  scream  of 
the  last  terrified  woman  was  silenced;  the  sob 
of  the  last  infant  was  stilled,  they  were 
thrown,  the  dead  and  dying,  into  a  well,  and 
when  a  few  hours  later  the  rescuing  army 
came  raging  in,  alas,  there  were  none  alive  to 
rescue. 

About  that  court  is  now  an  octagonal 
Gothic  screen  of  the  purest  white  marble,  and 
over  the  well  stands  a  marble  cross,  and  an 
angel  with  hands  crossed  meekly  upon  the 
breast. 

It  was  midnight  when  our  train  rolled 
across  the  iron  bridge  that  spans  the  Jumna 
at  Agra.  In  the  moonlight  we  could  see  the 
swelling  domes  of  the  Jumna  Musjid  mosque 
marked  with  lines  of  red  sandstone  and  white 
marble;  and  the  frowning  battlements  of  the 
great  fort  at  Akbar,  the  greatest  of  the  Mon- 
gul  Emperors, — soldier,  philosopher  and 
law-giver.  Within  this  grim  fortification  are 
palaces  of  such  richness  and  beauty  that  only 
in  the  tales  of  the  Arabian  Nights  can  their 
equal  be  found. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

AGRA  AND  THE  FORT  OF  AKBAR. 

In  Agra,  as  in  the  other  interior  towns 
of  India,  the  foreign  hotels  are  located  in  the 
cantonment,  or  district  devoted  to  the  bar- 
racks of  the  British  troops,  the  residences  of 
the  officers,  missionaries  and  foreign  mer- 
chants outside  of  the  native  city.  These 
quarters  are  very  pleasant  places  in  which  to 
live.  The  semi-European  houses  are  embow- 
ered in  ample  gardens  bordering  the  broad 
streets. 

The  hotels  in  central  India  are  much  alike. 
They  have  one  story  wings  with  porticos 
upon  which  open  the  doors  of  the  sleeping 
apartments.  These  apartments  are  white- 
washed stone  rooms,  each  with  a  window 
high  up  near  the  ceiling  for  ventilation,  and 
a  small  one  by  the  door  to  look  through. 
There  is  a  narrow,  hard  bed  with  a  Turkey 
red  punkah  swinging  above  it.  The  floors  are 
stone  or  cement  and  a  small  rug  tries  to  make 
it  look  cheerful. 

In  the  rear  is  a  dressing  room  and  bath. 
The  three-foot  stone  wall  built  nearly  around 

169 


i  70  Oriental  Rambles. 

one  corner  is  not  a  fortification  against  an- 
other mutiny,  but  the  bath  compartment,  and 
on  its  cold  stone  floor  rests  a  three-shilling 
tin  foot-bath — the  storied  tub  of  the  English- 
man. Forty  dollars  worth  of  stone  fence 
around  forty  cents  worth  of  plumbing.  It 
was  aggravating.  The  Philosopher  said: 

"While  we  are  in  Agra  we  should  expect 
to  be  aggravated." 

A  pun  is  a  protozoic  form  of  wit,  and  an 
incitant  to  crime. 

All  through  the  chilly  night  the  bearer 
sleeps  on  the  portico  in  front  of  your  bed- 
room door.  In  the  early  dawn  he  crawls  out 
of  his  cocoon  of  blankets  in  which  he  has 
wrapped  .himself,  clangs  the  tin  tub  on  the 
stone  floor,  fills  it  with  tepid  water;  brings 
chota  hazrid,  (early  breakfast  of  tea  and 
toast,)  then  sits  upon  his  heels  awaiting  or- 
ders. About  ten  o'clock  breakfast  is  served 
in  the  dining  room.  It  is  a  substantial  meal — 
if  you  get  it — a  contingency  depending  upon 
the  agility  and  diplomacy  of  your  bearer  and 
upon  the  caprice  of  a  not  over  scrupulous 
providence.  That  function  being  completed, 
the  traveler  delivers  himself  into  the  hands 
of  the  guide  to  be  shown  things. 

I  had  a  theory  that  we  should  begin  with 


The  Palaces  of  the  Moguls.         i?1 

the  less  Important  sights  and  work  up  by 
easy  stages  saving  the  Taj  Mahal  for  the 
last,  as  a  grand  climax;  but  the  Philosopher 
had  in  mind  the  old  story  of  the  Irishman  who 
being  invited  to  eat  all  he  could  at  a 
restaurant,  began  at  the  top  and  ordered 
something  in  French.  It  proved  to  be  soup, 
he  ordered  the  next — that  also  was  soup;  he 
tried  again  and  drew  soup,  and  thus  proceed- 
ed until  he  had  taken  each  kind  of  soup  and 
was  ready  to  burst.  When  he  saw  the  really 
good  things  coming  on  for  others,  he  remark- 
ed, as  he  sadly  withdrew,  "  'Tis  the  chance  of 
me  life,  and  me  full  of  soup."  Therefore,  the 
Philosopher,  for  fear  of  being  over-fed  on 
lesser  sights,  went  off  alone  to  see  the  Taj 
Mahal,  while  I  went  to  the  fort. 

Akbar,  the  Wise  and  Great,  founded 
Agra  and  built  therein  a  fort  seventy  feet 
high  and  nearly  two  miles  around.  In  it  he 
and  his  successors  Shah  Jehan,  Aurenzebe  and 
others  built  palaces  as  beautiful  as  dreams. 

As  we  entered  the  fort  our  carriage  crossed 
an  empty  moat,  passed  under  heavy  arch- 
ways, through  murky  tunnels,  and  finally 
stopped  before  the  Judgment  Hall  of  Akbar, 
the  Solomon  of  the  East,  the  greatest  of  the 
Grand  Monguls.  This  hall  is  a  loggia  open 


172  Oriental  Rambles. 

on  three  sides.  Colonnades  of  marble  pillars 
support  the  groined  marble  ceiling.  In  the 
closed  side  is  an  elevated  niche  ornamented 
with  mosaics  of  birds  and  flowers.  This  is 
the  Judgment  seat  of  Akbar.  His  conquests 
were  of  short  duration.  The  Empire  which 
he  founded  has  crumbled  to  pieces;  his  palaces 
are  now  show  places  for  tourists,  but  his  laws, 
—the  Code  Akbar, — are  still  used  in  parts 
of  India.  The  good  men  do  lives  after  them, 
and  the  evil  dies  with  them, — perhaps. 

We  passed  through  a  few  rooms  of  the  red 
sandstone  palace  of  Aurenzebe  and  saw  stone 
ceilings  and  walls  engraved  all  over  in  the 
most  dainty  designs  of  arabesque  and  flowers, 
remaining  as  sharp  and  clear  as  when  the 
sculptors  completed  their  work  three  hundred 
years  ago.  In  some  rooms  the  painting  and 
gilding  on  the  sculptured  walls  are  still  bright 
and  beautiful. 

The  palace  of  Shah  Jehan  is  of  dazzling 
white  marble  cresting  the  red  sandstone  walls 
of  the  fort.  There  are  majestic  halls,  airy 
pavilions,  and  sunken  arenas  where  tigers 
and  elephants  fought  for  the  amusement  of 
the  court;  and  the  Persian  gardens  where  the 
sprites  of  the  harem  played  hide  and  seek 
among  the  rose  and  jessamine  bowers.  On 


The  Fairy  Grotto  of  the  Mirrored  Bath.  173 

three  sides  of  this  garden  were  their  apart- 
ments. 

On  a  marble  terrace  overlooking  the  gar- 
den stands  the  black  marble  platform  upon 
which  the  Great  Mogul,  the  King  of  Kings, 
sat  cross-legged  on  his  jeweled  throne,  under 
a  canopy  of  silken  tapestry. 

The  black  marble  platform  is  now  barren; 
on  its  beautiful  polished  surface  is  a  red  stain, 
and  through  its  ponderous  body  is  a  fissure. 
This  is  evidence  of  a  miraculous  manifesta- 
tion, for  legend  has  it  that  the  platform  rent 
itself  in  twain  and  wept  blood,  when  the  Ma> 
harretta  conqueror  ascended  it,  and  again 
when  an  English  Viceroy  seated  himself 
thereon. 

The  Golden  Pavilion,  the  Jewel  Tower 
and  the  Jessamine  Pavilion  are  tiny  retreats, 
bird  cages  in  inlaid  marble,  for  the  beauties 
of  the  harem.  In  the  mosaic  floors  are  sculp- 
tured basins  for  fountains  of  rose  water,  be- 
hind which  colored  lights  were  placed. 

There  is  the  Persian  pavilion  whose  roof  is 
a  single  block  of  marble  sculptured  with  a  de- 
sign of  Persian  roses.  From  the  capitals  of 
the  supporting  pillars  droop  marble  rosebuds 
so  delicately  beautiful  that  the  soul  of  the  be- 
holder sings  with  delight.  In  this  pavilion 


174  Oriental  Rambles. 

sat  the  beauties  of  the  harem  with  silver  rods 
and  silken  line,  angling  for  gold  fish  in  the 
fountain  below. 

In  the  harem  are  the  wonderful  apart- 
ments of  the  mirrored  bath.  These  rooms  are 
as  still  and  cool  as  marble  caves.  They  were 
lighted  only  by  many  tiny  lamps  set  in  niches 
behind  colored  glasses.  From  the  walls  gush- 
ed fountains  sparkling  with  the  colors  of  con- 
cealed lights  and  falling  in  glittering  cas- 
cades into  marble  pools  to  flow  away,  bab- 
bling from  room  to  room  over  a  mosaic  bed. 

In  such  an  enchanted  grotto,  with  its  silken 
carpets,  its  mellow  lights,  its  splashing  foun- 
tains, its  heavy  perfumes,  and  its  myriad  re- 
flections of  the  merry  nymphs  of  the  harem — 
the  King  was  wont  to  take  his  recreation. 

In  one  of  the  rooms  of  the  palace  upon  the 
ceiling  is  inscribed  in  Persian  poetry: 

"If  there  is  a  paradise  on  earth, — it  is 
here, — it  is  here, — it  is  here." 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE  TAJ  MAHAL. 

The  drive  from  the  hotel  to  the  Taj  was 
through  broad  streets  bordered  by  trees.  On 
approaching  the  entrance  there  appeared  on 
either  side  massive  ruins  of  caravansaries  and 
palaces;  and  then  came  into  view,  an  impos- 
ing building  in  red  sandstone  capped  with 
numerous  white  marble  pavilions.  The 
building  is  pierced  with  an  immense  pointed 
archway,  and  is  ornamented  with  bands,  de- 
signs and  texts  from  the  Koran  in  white  mar- 
ble. Noble  as  this  building  is,  it  is  only  the 
gateway  to  the  garden  of  the  Taj.  I  left 
the  carriage  and  entered,  and  beheld  in  the 
distance  a  gleaming  white  bubble  of  a  dome 
resting  so  lightly  on  a  sculptured  pile  of  mar- 
ble that  it  seemed  to  float  in  the  air  rather 
than  press  upon  its  foundation.  Leading  up 
to  the  Taj,  through  a  grove  of  laurel  and 
lemon  trees,  is  an  avenue  of  Italian  cypresses. 
There  is  a  mosaic  pavement  in  this  avenue 
and  through  its  center  is  a  row  of  fountains 
playing  in  a  lily  pool. 

The  Taj  stands  on  a  marble  platform  as  a 

176 


176  Oriental  Rambles. 

jewel  casket  stands  on  a  table,  its  eight  sides 
carved  and  inlaid  in  black  marble  with  Arabic 
texts  from  the  Koran.  Dominating  the  four 
smaller  domes  is  the  grand  central  dome, 
two-thirds  of  a  globe,  with  the  top  sharpened 
to  a  point.  At  the  corners  of  the  masonry 
platform,  but  apart  from  the  Taj  itself, 
stand  four  marble  minarets,  like  giant  candles 
before  a  shrine. 

The  Taj  impresses  with  the  magnitude  of 
its  mass,  the  airy  grace  of  its  style,  and  the 
detail  of  its  carved  and  inlaid  marbles.  It 
is  love  at  first  sight  for  there  is  in  the  picture 
a  charm  which  mere  words  cannot  express. 
It  is  proportion,  and  proportion  is  art,  and 
words  are  powerless  before  art. 

I  sat  on  a  bench  in  the  garden  and  contem- 
plated its  beauties,  and  they  grew  more  en- 
trancing as  the  hours  passed.  The  Taj  is 
like  a  lover  who  at  one  moment  commands 
with  his  over-powering  personality  and  at 
another  cajoles  with  a  caress.  At  one  mo- 
ment it  seemed  like  a  mountain  of  ice,  at 
another  an  intangible  cloud,  at  another  an 
onyx  casket  inlaid  with  ebony. 

When  Noor  Jehan  died  following  the  for- 
tunes of  war,  with  Shah  Jehan  in  far  Cash- 
mere, he  vowed  he  would  build  for  her  a 


The  Taj  by  Moonlight.  177 

tomb  whose  beauty  could  never  be  surpassed. 
For  seventeen  years,  thousands  toiled.  At 
last  when  deposed  and  old  and  full  of  sor- 
row, Shah  Jehan  was  near  unto  death  in  a 
narrow  cell,  where  for  seven  years  he  had 
been  a  prisoner  in  his  own  palace,  he  begged 
the  son  who  had  deposed  and  imprisoned  him, 
that  he  might  see  again  before  he  died,  the 
tomb  of  his  Noor  Jehan.  He  was  carried  to  the 
jessamine  pavilion  under  whose  jeweled  mar- 
ble arches  he  had  known  with  her  what  joy 
it  was  to  live;  and  breathed  his  last  with  his 
eyes  resting  on  the  marble  domes  that  gleam- 
ed beyond  the  sandy  bed  of  the  Jumna. 
There  his  love  awaited  him,  and  there  he 
rests  by  her  side. 

I  visited  the  Taj  again  in  the  evening,  and 
sitting  alone  by  the  reflecting  waters  of  the 
fountains,  contemplated  its  beauty,  gleaming 
white  and  pure  in  the  magic  of  the  pale 
moonlight.  Then  it  seemed  a  pearl  palace 
from  the  paradise  of  dreams;  a  fitting  casket 
for  Noor  Jehan,  the  pearl  of  the  palace,  "The 
Light  of  the  Harem,"  of  Moore's  immortal 
poem. 

On  entering  the  Taj  one  marvels  at  the 
detail  of  the  ornamentation.  The  light  comes 
faintly  through  screens  of  marble  filigree. 


178  Oriental  Rambles, 

The  sarcophagi  of  Shah  Jehan  and  his 
Queen  are  in  the  center,  inscribed  with  the 
ninety-nine  names  of  God  and  extracts  from 
the  Koran.  They  are  also  inlaid  with  semi- 
precious stones,  such  as  agate,  carnelian,  mal- 
achite, bloodstone,  and  coral  in  floral  gar- 
lands. The  lace-like  marble  screens  that  en- 
circle the  sarcophagi,  and  the  walls  themselves 
are  inlaid  in  Persian  designs  with  the  same 
beautiful  stones.  The  wainscoting  of  mar- 
ble slabs  of  ivory  purity  are  carved  in  relief 
with  conventional  designs  of  the  lily,  iris,  tu- 
lip and  primrose. 

There  is  holy  calm  and  hush  in  the  Taj. 
The  mind  is  overwhelmed  with  its  beauty  and 
dignity.  There  is  nothing  gaudy;  nothing 
inharmonious.  With  all  its  richness  it  con- 
veys an  impression  of  purity  and  simplicity. 
It  breathes  of  noble  thoughts  and  a  mighty 
love.  Shah  Jehan  may  rest  content.  The 
tomb  of  his  well-beloved  is  not  surpassed. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

FUTTEHPORE-SIKREE,    THE    DESERTED    CITY. 

We  drove  to  the  deserted  city  Futtehpore- 
Sikree,  built  by  Akbar.  On  a  hill  overlook- 
ing the  fertile  plains  for  miles  and  miles, 
stands  a  walled  city  with  red  sandstone  pal- 
aces, and  marble  mosques  with  carving  as 
beautiful  as  lace,  and  as  perfect  as  when  de- 
serted, over  three  hundred  years  ago.  No 
conquering  army  has  destroyed  an  arch.  No 
vandal  hand  has  marred  a  pillar.  The  rooms 
lack  only  furniture,  rugs  and  draperies  to  make 
them  again  suitable  for  the  throngs  and 
pomp  of  a  potentate. 

Kipling  gives  a  perfect  picture  of  the  de- 
serted city  in  these  words: 

"What  do  you  think  of  a  big,  red,  dead 
city  built  of  red  sandstone,  with  raw,  green 
aloes  growing  between  the  stones,  lying  out 
neglected  on  honey-colored  sands  ?  There  are 
forty  dead  kings  there,  each  in  a  gorgeous 
tomb  finer  than  all  the  others.  You  look  at 
the  palaces  and  streets  and  shops  and  tanks, 
and  think  that  men  must  live  there,  till  you 
find  a  wee,  gray  squirrel  rubbing  its  nose  all 


179 


180  Oriental  Rambles. 

alone  in  the  market-place,  and  a  jeweled  pea- 
cock struts  out  of  a  carved  doorway  and 
spreads  its  tail  against  a  marble  screen  as  fine- 
pierced  as  point  lace.  Then  a  monkey — a 
little  black  monkey — walks  through  the  main 
square  to  get  a  drink  from  a  tank  forty  feet 
deep.  He  slides  down  the  creepers  to  the 
water's  edge,  and  a  friend  holds  him  by  the 
tail  in  case  he  should  fall  in.  When  evening 
comes  and  the  lights  change,  it  is  as  though 
you  stood  in  the  heart  of  a  king-opal.  A  lit- 
tle before  sundown,  as  punctually  as  clock- 
work, a  big,  bristly  wild  boar,  with  all  his 
family  following,  trots  through  the  city  gate, 
churning  the  foam  at  his  tusks.  You  climb 
on  the  shoulder  of  a  blind,  black,  stone  god 
and  watch  that  pig  choose  himself  a  palace  for 
the  night  and  stump  in  wagging  his  tail. 
Then  the  night-wind  gets  up,  and  the  sands 
move,  and  you  hear  the  desert  outside  the 
city  singing:  'Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep,' 
and  everything  is  dark  till  the  moon  rises." 

The  palace  of  Miriam,  Akbar's  Portu- 
guese Christian  wife,  has  been  refurnished  as 
an  official  residence,  and  affords  an  example 
of  how  cozy  and  homelike  these  old  palaces 
were.  Akbar  was,  like  Solomon,  a  very  lib- 
eral man  in  religious  matters.  Himself  a 


From  the  Mohammedan's  Standpoint.    181 

Mohammedan,  he  took  a  wife  from  each  of 
the  religions  of  his  dominions  that  through 
her  each  denomination  might  have  a  sure  and 
and  private  means  of  reaching  his  ear. 

In  the  palace  of  Miriam  is  a  fresco  of  the 
Annunciation.  In  the  palace  of  another  wife 
are  frescoes  of  the  Hindoo  God,  Ganeish; 
and  in  the  others  are  illustrations  of  Persian 
poems. 

We  noticed  the  frequent  repetition  In  the 
stone  carvings  of  the  six-pointed  star,  or 
double  triangle,  similar  to  the  emblem  of 
masonry.  But  here  it  is  used  in  its  religious 
significance  symbolizing  the  female  element 
of  the  world's  creation,  as  the  lingam  sym- 
bolizes the  male  element  in  the  creation  of 
all  things  animate  and  inanimate.  This  is 
one  of  the  most  ancient  symbols  in  Brahmin- 
ism,  and  was  doubtless  ancient  in  the  time  of 
Solomon. 

Whether  the  Jews  brought  masonry  from 
their  captivity  in  Babylon;  and  if  so,  whether 
the  Babylonians  in  turn  derived  it  from  the 
primitive  religion  of  India,  are  questions 
which  our  Masonic  friends  may  be  able  to 
answer. 

We  also  noticed  carvings  of  the  Greek 
cross.  It  is  recorded  that  Akbar  once  replied 


1 82  Oriental  Rambles. 

to  the  Jesuits  who  approached  him :  "What 
would  you  have?  Behold!  I  have  more 
crosses  now  on  my  palaces  than  you  have  on 
your  churches." 

Many  of  us  thought  the  Congress  of  Reli- 
gions held  at  the  Columbian  Exhibition  was 
the  first  of  its  kind;  but  the  wise  Akbar  held 
one  in  Futtehpore-Sikree  over  three  hundred 
years  ago.  On  the  main  gateway  to  the 
mosque,  the  most  imposing  building  on  this 
hill  of  palaces,  is  carved  in  stone  the  follow- 
ing: 

"Jesus,  on  whom  be  peace,  said:  'The 
world  is  a  bridge,  pass  over  it,  but  build  no 
house  there.  He  who  hopeth  for  an  hour 
may  hope  for  eternity.  The  world  lasts  but 
for  an  hour;  spend  it  in  devotion;  the  rest  is 
unseen.'  ' 

This  is  singularly  like,  "Lay  not  up  for 
yourselves  treasures  upon  earth  where  moth 
and  rust  doth  corrupt  and  where  thieves 
break  through  and  steal." 

An  intelligent  and  highly  educated  Mo- 
hammedan explained  this  surprising  recogni- 
tion of  Jesus  in  the  following  words : 

'Mohammedans  recognized  Jesus  as  one 
of  the  great  Prophets,  only  below  Moham- 
med and  Moses  in  importance.  Moses  was 


From  the  Mohammedan's  Standpoint.  183 

greater  because  he  gave  the  ten  command- 
ments, one  of  which  is  continually  broken  by 
the  Christians  when  they  make  graven  images 
of  Christ,  Mary,  or  the  saints,  and  bow  down 
before  them.  We  Mohammedans  follow 
that  law,  and  use  no  pictures  or  images  in 
our  worship.  We  consider  Mohammed  a 
greater  Prophet  than  Jesus  because  he  came 
later  and  superseded  him.  Neither  Jesus  nor 
Mohammed  was  a  God,  but  only  prophets. 
Our  cry  is  "God  is  God,  and  Mohammed  is 
His  Prophet."  If  you  should  tell  a  Moham- 
medan that  God  could  be  killed  by  man,  or 
that  God  died,  and  was  dead  for  three  days, 
he  would  say  it  is  impossible.  God  is  immor- 
tal and  therefore  cannot  die." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

DELHI,  THE  DELIGHTFUL. 

Delhi  is  said  to  be  the  oldest  capital  in  the 
world.  It  was  the  capital  of  an  empire  when 
Jerusalem  was  a  barren  rock.  Within  the 
area  of  ten  miles  square  there  are  the  remains 
of  seven  cities  in  various  stages  of  ruin.  How 
many  have  entirely  disappeared  no  one  knows. 
We  entered  the  present  city  through  the 
Cashmere  Gate  which  was  battered  and 
scarred  by  English  cannon  during  the  mutiny 
when  the  city  was  retaken  by  storm. 

The  old  fort  of  Shah  Jehan  is  not  as  inter- 
esting as  that  of  Akbar  at  Agra,  because 
much  of  it  has  been  destroyed.  The  gate- 
way is  gay  with  the  capping  pavilions  in  the 
light  and  airy  style  of  the  Moguls,  and  it  is 
somewhat  of  a  shock  to  encounter,  the  first 
thing  on  passing  through  this  gateway,  the 
modern  barracks  of  Tommy  Atkins  con- 
structed in  the  cheapest  and  most  unorna- 
mental  manner. 

The  Audience  Hall  of  Shah  Jehan  has  been 
whitewashed,  thus  making  light  of  its  dignity. 
Further  on  we  passed  through  rooms  where 

184 


Tumbling  Tombs  of  Tyrants.         185 

the  whitewash  blunderer  had  committed 
desecrations  equivalent  to  a  crime.  Entire 
ceilings  in  marble,  exquisitely  carved,  then 
painted  and  gilded  with  masterly  art,  have 
been  ruined  by  the  whitewash  brush.  The 
English  have  attempted  to  repair  the  damage 
by  a  restoration,  but  the  expense  was  so  ruin- 
ous that  it  was  abandoned.  When  one  sees 
entire  ceilings  and  walls  where  precious  paint- 
ings in  marvelous  colors  can  still  be  faintly 
traced  through  the  coat  of  whitewash,  one 
wonders  what  manner  of  man  could  have  or- 
dered such  wanton  destruction.  Much  of  the 
palace  has  been  destroyed  to  make  room  for 
barracks,  but  there  still  remains  the  throne 
room,  the  most  beautiful  hall  in  the  world. 

From  the  marble  floor  rises  a  forest  of 
marble  pillars  whose  arches,  inlaid  and  em- 
broidered with  semi-precious  stones,  support 
a  ceiling  with  myriads  of  pendants  painted 
in  green,  azure  and  gold.  The  screens  of 
marble  filigree  and  the  marble  walls  are  in- 
laid with  colored  stones  in  garlands  of 
flowers, — the  leaves  of  malachite  and  the 
roses  of  coral  or  carnelian  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  in  the  Taj  Mahal.  In  this  hall  stood 
the  peacock  throne,  a  blaze  of  diamonds, 
sapphires,  emeralds,  rubies  and  pearls.  The 


1 86  Oriental  Rambles. 

throne  was  carried  to  Persia  by  the  conqueror 
Nadir  Shah.  Only  the  marble  pedestal  re- 
mains. Once  there  was  a  massive  silver  ceil- 
ing, but  the  Mahratta  conquerors  melted  it 
down  for  loot.  When  the  beauty  of  the  hall 
is  still  so  great  in  spite  of  the  pillage  of 
many  conquerors,  what  must  it  have  been 
when  Shah  Jehan,  in  a  cloak  of  scintillating 
diamonds,  sat  upon  the  peacock  throne,  sur- 
rounded by  the  splendors  of  the  Mogul  court  ? 
A  ride  through  the  ancient  ruined  cities 
about  Delhi  is  full  of  the  interest  that  attaches 
to  the  tumbling  tombs  of  tyrants,  and  of 
mighty  monarchs  whose  names  are  forgotten. 
There  are  ruins  of  observatories  with  as- 
tronomical and  mathematical  instruments 
and  contrivances  where,  perhaps,  the  wise 
men  of  Chaladee  studied  astronomy  and  as- 
trology. Here  Jey  Sing,  the  royal  astrono- 
mer who  succeeded  the  Rajahs  of  Amber  and 
founded  Jaipur,  reformed  the  calendar  about 
1693.  His  astronomical  observations  were 
wonderfully  accurate.  The  gnomons,  dials, 
quadrants,  and  so  forth,  are  on  a  gigantic 
scale,  built  of  solid  masonry.  There  are 
also  many  curious  instruments  whose  purpose 
cannot  be  guessed.  The  "Wise  Men  of  the 
East"  were  very  real  men. 


The  Kutub  Minar.  187 

Eleven  miles  away  is  the  Kutub  Minar,  a 
mighty  tower,  two  hundred  and  forty  feet 
high,  fluted  and  banded  with  carving.  Its 
origin  is  enveloped  in  mystery.  In  the  court- 
yard of  an  ancient  temple  nearby  is  a  wrought 
iron  pillar  older  than  Christianity.  An  in- 
scription in  Sanskrit  announces  that  it  is: 
"The  arm  of  fame  of  Rajah  Dhava,  who 
conquered  his  neighbors  and  won  the  un- 
disputed sovereignty  of  the  earth."  Who 
was  Rajah  Dhava?  This  is  the  only  evi- 
dence that  he  ever  existed. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

A  NAUTCH  DANCE. 

I  have  seen  a  nautch  dance.  In  my  boy- 
hood I  read  the  tales  of  travelers,  and  their 
descriptions  conjured  up  in  my  imagination 
pictures  of  oriental  luxury  and  delights  that 
have  never  faded;  therefore  among  the  early 
inquiries  I  made  in  India  was  the  question, 
"Where  shall  we  see  a  nautch?"  Everyone 
said  "Delhi  is  the  place.  Delhi,  the  ancient 
capital;  the  center  of  wealth,  art,  poetry  and 
pleasure." 

I  had  pictured  to  myself  a  marble  court 
with  Moorish  arches,  splashing  fountains, 
mellow  lights,  rich  rugs,  divans,  draperies 
and  the  voluptuous  odors  of  sandal  wood  and 
attar  of  roses;  and  myself  sitting  cross- 
legged  on  a  divan,  smoking  a  hookah,  what- 
ever that  is,  with  rose  water  in  the  bowl, 
while  slender  beauties  in  gauzy  draperies 
danced  before  me  on  silken  rugs  to  the  tinkle 
of  castanets,  the  tremulous  cadences  of  the 
lute  and  the  soft  tones  of  the  lyre,  as  they 
did  before  Solomon  and  Shah  Jehan.  In 

188 


Expectation  and  Realization.         189 

fact,  I  had  imagined  myself  a  Great  Mogul, 
or  an  oil  painting. 

At  last  I  saw  the  nautch.  My  curiosity 
was  satisfied,  but  my  soul  was  not.  It  is  sad 
to  lose  our  illusions,  the  most  beautiful  and 
perfect  things  we  ever  possess;  and  why  we 
should  ever  want  to  is  one  of  the  fifty-seven 
mysteries  of  life. 

Arrangements  having  been  made  several 
days  in  advance  for  so  important  an  event, 
we  were  ushered  into  a  room  furnished  with 
the  most  complete  barrenness.  No,  the 
room  was  not  completely  barren,  for  besides 
the  European  chairs,  there  were  European 
chromos  on  the  wall  showing  some  highly 
colored  horse  races,  and  a  lithograph  giving 
us  the  cheering  intelligence  that  "Splittz 
Beer  is  Best."  In  addition  there  was  con- 
siderable bona-fide  Asiatic  dirt. 

Ranged  against  the  opposite  wall  were 
seven  native  musicians  with  strange  instru- 
ments and  an  English  concertina.  When 
the  music  began,  two  girls  appeared  and 
lifted  up  their  voices  in  song.  They  were 
wonderfully  and  voluminously  appareled. 
They  wore  blue  satin  waists  with  long 
sleeves  embroidered  in  gold.  Heavy  skirts  of 
cloth  of  gold,  very  full,  reached  to  their 


Oriental  Rambles. 


ankles.  The  feet  were  bare,  but  were  loaded 
with  silver  anklets  and  toe  rings  too  numer- 
ous to  count.  Their  heads  and  necks  were 
roped  with  near-pearls  and  other  jewels  of 
more  or  less  value.  A  shawl  with  golden 
fringe  was  twisted  about  the  body,  a  corner 
of  which  was  occasionally  thrown  coquettish- 
ly  over  the  head.  I  had  not  seen  so  many 
clothes  in  all  India.  After  the  dance  we  saw 
these  grand  clothes  being  carefully  folded 
and  laid  away,  and  the  dancers  went  out  into 
the  street,  dressed  in  the  usual  native  cos- 
tume consisting  of  a  skirt  that  is  too  short  at 
the  top,  and  a  bust-supporting  jacket  that  is 
too  short  at  the  bottom,  thus  leaving  exposed 
a  generous  expanse  of  bare  stomach. 

As  I  said  before,  they  lifted  up  their  voices 
in  song.  The  song  was  not  so  bad,  although 
we  had  no  idea  what  it  was  about,  but  it 
seemed  to  possess  the  wild  passionate  thrill 
of  an  oriental  love  song.  It  had  odd  little 
quavers  at  the  end  of  the  measures,  and  con- 
siderable rhythm  and  swing.  When  they 
clasped  their  hands  and  rolled  up  their  eyes, 
it  was  plain  enough  to  me  that  they  were 
making  love,  and  I  was  enjoying  it  as  such 
until  the  interpreter  explained  they  were 
charming  snakes. 


The  Betel  Nut  Habit.  19 J 

Then  they  danced  the  "Thread-Making 
Dance"  in  which  they  carded  imaginary 
wool,  spun  and  twisted  imaginary  thread  and 
made  an  imaginary  garment. 

These  nautch  girls  might  be  called  pretty, 
with  their  round  young  faces,  raven  hair, 
rich  dark  complexions  and  languishing  eyes, 
were  it  not  for  the  betel  nut  habit.  The 
crushed  betel  nuts  were  placed  between  two 
green  leaves,  with  slaked  lime  for  flavoring, 
and  stowed  away  in  their  mouths  in  prodig- 
ious quantity  to  be  vigorously  chewed  during 
the  dancing,  and  shuttled  about  during  the 
singing.  Betel  nut  chewing  may  be  well 
enough  in  its  place,  as  there  is  said  to  be  a 
place  for  everything,  and,  according  to  the 
Philosopher,  a  hot  one  for  some,  but  it  is 
unromantic  in  dancing  girls.  It  is  diverting, 
for  it  stains  their  teeth  a  dark  red,  the  in- 
terior of  their  mouths  black,  and  leaves  high 
water  marks  about  their  lips  and  the  trail  of 
accidental  overflows  on  their  shapely  chins. 

One  girl  fascinated  me.  She  seemed  to 
open  her  face  in  song,  and  as  I  gazed  into 
the  black  abyss,  I  wondered  if  the  mass,  she 
was  so  skillfully  shuttling  about  to  give  the 
song  half  a  chance  to  escape,  would  be  lost 
to  control  and  drop  into  her  larnyx,  complet- 


192  Oriental  Rambles. 

ing  the  strangulation,  or  whether  it  would 
safely  slip  down  her  gullet  and  be  happily 
"Lost  to  sight  if  not  to  memory  dear." 

The  nautch  dances  were  a  series  of  postur- 
ings,  attempts  at  dramatic  expression,  and 
while  not  lacking  in  grace,  were,  to  us, 
ridiculous  and  monotonous.  Doubtless  they 
appeal  to  the  oriental  mind.  They  must  do 
so;  for  they  are  the  steady  entertainment  of 
millions  of  Indians,  and  have  been  for  thou- 
sands of  years. 

At  last  garlands  of  fragrant  white  flowers 
were  hung  about  our  necks,  and  the  enter- 
tainment was  over. 

As  we  passed  out  into  the  night  through 
the  court-yard,  we  experienced  the  ordinary 
odors  of  the  Orient.  It  was  not  the  sensu- 
ous perfume  of  my  boyhood  fancy,  but  the 
pungent  emanations  of  goats,  which  accord- 
ing to  oriental  custom,  pass  their  nights  in- 
side the  house. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

JAIPUR  AND  THE  RAJPUTS. 

It  is  a  tiresome  ride  over  the  burning, 
sandy  plain  from  Delhi  to  Jaipur,  the  capi- 
tal of  Rajputana,  one  of  the  few  native 
states  remaining  nominally  independent  of 
the  English.  It  is  a  vast,  parched  plain  from 
which  the  sunlight  is  reflected  in  a  dazzling 
glare.  The  car  windows  are  provided  with 
smoked  glass,  but  the  penetrating  dust  is  be- 
yond the  control  of  man. 

This  part  of  India  is  the  home  of  famine. 
Occasionally  we  passed  a  green  plot  of 
ground  watered  by  a  government  irrigating 
canal,  or  well,  from  which  water  for  irriga- 
ting is  hoisted  in  leather  buckets  by  oxen.  It 
is  said  water  may  be  found  almost  anywhere 
at  no  great  depth,  but  rather  than  dig  a  well 
on  land  owned  by  the  government,  which 
takes  most  of  the  produce,  the  Hindoo  lies 
down  in  the  sun  and  sleeps  and  starves.  The 
Indian  dearly  loves  the  sun.  It  is  the  only 
thing  he  enjoys  that  he  gets  much  of. 

Here  is  an  opportunity  for  the  American 
well-driver  and  the  wind-mill  salesman,  or 
would  be  if  the  Hindoo  was  commanded  to 

103 


194  Oriental  Rambles. 

buy,  and  had  the  money  to  pay.  He  has 
been  governed  so  much  that  he  does  little  he 
is  not  commanded  to  do. 

There  is  an  emaciated  crowd  of  beggars  at 
every  railroad  station.  The  country  is  full 
of  pigeons.  They  walk  the  streets  and  flock 
on  the  roofs,  but  before  a  Hindoo  will  eat 
meat  he  will  starve.  His  religious  and  his 
caste  principles  are  stronger  than  his  desire 
for  life.  The  Hindoo  is  the  easiest  "dier" 
in  the  world.  There  is  no  humor  in  his  life. 
It  is  a  grim  struggle  and  full  of  trouble.  He 
bows  before  whichever  of  the  malevolent 
Gods  his  fathers  did,  bathes  in  the  sacred 
rivers,  follows  the  inexorable  custom  of  his 
caste,  lives  until  he  dies, — and  the  mourning 
is  brief.  He  carves  a  hideous  idol,  puts  it  in 
a  temple  and  worships  it  as  a  God,  or  the 
symbol  of  a  God,  according  to  his  intelli- 
gence. The  Mohammedan  conqueror  lifts 
his  battle-axe  and  smites  the  idol,  saying, 
"There  is  no  God  but  God.  No  images  must 
be  made,  for  God  is  a  spirit  and  must  be  wor- 
shiped in  spirit."  The  Christian  comes, 
and  holding  aloft  the  crucifix,  tells  the  beau- 
tiful story  of  love,  redemption  and  salvation ; 
but  the  Hindoo  can  no  more  understand  the 
beatitudes  of  Christianity  than  we  can  com- 


Hindoo  Characteristics.  195 

prehend  the  gloomy  terrors  of  Brahmanism ; 
and  so,  while  the  efforts  of  our  earnest  mis- 
sionaries are  great,  and  their  hopes  are  high, 
the  results  are  a  little  discouraging. 

Though  caste  is  undoubtedly  a  barrier  to 
progress,  it  has  its  advocates.  A  very  intel- 
ligent Englishman,  long  resident  in  India,  ex- 
plained to  us  that  caste,  although  cruel  and 
tyrannous,  is  really  an  advantage  to  the 
country,  as  its  laws  tend  to  keep  the  immense 
population  in  order  and  discipline.  It  has 
served  well  each  conqueror  of  India  through 
all  ages.  It  would  be  a  bad  thing  for  Eng- 
land or  any  other  reigning  power  if  caste  was 
abrogated  and  all  men  were  considered  equal, 
free  and  irresponsible  to  the  higher  caste. 
Anarchy  would  result.  English  rule  adapts 
itself  to  the  observation,  protection  and  eti- 
quette of  caste.  Although  a  Hindoo  beggar 
might  consider  his  cup  defiled  if  the  English 
Viceroy  should  drink  from  it,  the  English 
statesman  says  "It  is  well;  so  be  it." 

And  thus  we  see  the  anomaly  of  the  Eng- 
lish, as  a  political  body,  defending  caste  and 
sending  their  oldest  sons  as  soldiers  to  fight 
for  it,  and  the  English,  as  a  religious  body, 
sending  their  younger  sons  as  missionaries  to 
destroy  it  by  the  introduction  of  Christianity. 


196  Oriental  Rambles. 

It  seemed  that  since  Shanghai  we  had  been 
traveling  through  a  modified  England,  but  in 
Jaipur,  the  capital  of  the  independent  state 
of  Rajputana,  we  were  at  last  away  from  the 
shadow  of  the  English  flag,  if  not  away  from 
its  influence. 

Rajputana  has  its  Maharajah,  who  sits 
in  his  harem,  rides  his  elephants,  parts 
his  whiskers  in  the  middle,  and  otherwise 
conducts  himself  as  a  progressive  and  sat- 
isfactory monarch.  But  he  wisely  listens 
to  the  voice  of  the  English  representative, 
who  is  at  his  right  hand  to  give  such 
advice  as  may  seem  good  to  the  uncrowned 
English  despot  who  resides  in  the  Vice-regal 
palace  in  Calcutta.  By  following  that  ad- 
vice as  the  will  of  heaven,  he  is  able  to  con- 
tinue the  enjoyment  of  his  elephants,  his 
French  chandeliers,  his  wives,  his  many  danc- 
ing girls,  and  his  three  hundred  assorted 
beauties  of  the  harem.  He  paves  the  streets, 
builds  industrial  schools,  dispenses  grain  to 
his  starving  subjects,  names  a  museum  Al- 
bert Memorial,  paints  "Welcome"  on  a  hill- 
side in  white  kalsomine,  and  sent  an  elephant 
to  take  our  party  to  his  old  palace  at  Amber. 

The  last  item  alone  shows  he  is  a  first-rate 
king. 


I 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

A  TRIP  TO  AMBER,  AND  AN  ELEPHANT  RIDE. 

The  eleven-mile  ride  to  the  deserted  palace 
of  Amber  was  in  three  chapters,  carriage, 
ox-cart  and  elephant.  During  the  first  chap- 
ter we  passed  acres  of  prickly  pears.  This 
vindictive  vegetable  may  be  very  well  for 
hedges,  but  as  a  regular  crop  it  is  a  failure. 
There  are  thickets  of  them  occupying  the  de- 
serted gardens  of  suburban  villas  of  graceful 
Saracenic  architecture,  which  have  long  been 
abandoned  by  the  owners  to  the  doves  and 
crows.  Wild  monkeys  scampered  about  their 
roofs  and  commented  on  our  appearance  as 
we  passed. 

When  the  road  became  bad  and  the  coun- 
try hilly  we  changed  to  a  bullock  cart.  It 
had  no  springs,  but  a  good  deal  of  green 
canopy.  We  sat  cross-legged  in  the  native 
fashion.  The  white  oxen  were  very  deliber- 
ate. They  stopped  so  frequently,  and  looked 
back  so  reproachfully  that  I  got  off  and 
walked.  We  climbed  a  narrow,  desolate 
valley  between  rocky  hills  crowned  with  the 
battlements  of  the  ancient  palace.  Passing 


197 


198  Oriental  Rambles. 

through  a  gate  whose  crumbling  wooden 
doors  bristled  with  iron  spikes,  we  saw  the 
royal  elephant  awaiting  us  before  the  "Am- 
ber Rest  House." 

We  had  luncheon  on  the  veranda.  Before 
us  was  a  narrow  valley  holding  a  glassy  pond 
where  ducks  were  swimming.  In  the  water 
many  storks  were  standing  on  one  leg.*  A 
few  natives  were  performing  their  abolutions 
and  washing  their  clothes  on  the  sandy  shore. 
Across  the  pond  rose  a  hill.  A  road  zig- 
zagged up  its  side  to  the  castle,  a  marble 
palace  on  grey  sandstone  foundations.  Still 
higher  on  the  crest  of  the  hill  frowned  the 
red  sandstone  fortress  of  the  Rajput  mon- 
archs  of  four  hundred  years  ago. 

The  road  before  our  veranda  had  once 
thronged  with  the  nobles  of  a  gay  court. 
Here  came  in  triumph  the  conquerors  of  Del- 
hi, but  now  there  came  a  different  retinue,  a 
sorry  companv  of  thin-shanked,  starving  na- 
tives with  a  flock  of  children.  There  is  no 
race  suicide  in  India,  even  in  time  of  famine. 

These  people  respectfully  touched  their 
forehead  and  lips  and  rubbed  their  wind- 
distended  stomachs  in  token  of  their  need, 


*  That  is.  one  leg  for  each  stork.     It  is  a  foolish  habit 
anyway. — G.  W.  C. 


The  Amber  Rest  House.  199 

murmuring  the  while  that  we  were  their 
fathers,  their  mothers,  their  brothers,  their 
masters  and  their  protectors.  A  few  coppers 
made  them  happy. 

And  then  came  another  class  of  beggars, 
the  monkeys.  They  looked  better  nourished 
than  the  Hindoos  and  appeared  happier. 
Wild  animals  are  not  afraid  in  India,  because 
the  Hindoos  do  not  frighten  or  harm  them. 
Even  tigers  are  sociable — and  very  fond  of 
the  Hindoos.  These  monkeys  came  to  us 
without  fear  and  helped  themselves  to  food 
from  our  hands.  If  they  found  a  hand 
empty  they  gave  it  a  slap  and  chattered  an- 
grily. 

Some  wild  peacocks,  also  scenting  food, 
came  out  of  the  thickets  to  watch  the  pro- 
ceedings from  a  respectable  distance. 

A  stone-laden  camel  strode  by,  led  by  a 
Hindoo,  who  salaamed  respectfully.  We 
knew  by  the  mark  on  his  forehead  he  was  a 
worshiper  of  Sheva.  The  camel  had  a 
drooping  under  lip,  and  surveyed  us  with  a 
stare  of  contemptuous  hauteur. 

The  royal  elephant  in  the  meantime  had 
been  breakfasting  off  a  pile  of  tree  branches, 
that  looked  more  suitable  for  a  stove  than 
an  elephant.  As  he  picked  it  over  hunting 


200  Oriental  Rambles. 

for  tender  twigs,  he  seemed  to  say,  "I  eat  this 
'breakfast  food,'  not  because  I  like  it,  but  be- 
cause my  doctor  recommends  it."  He  was 
not  a  prosperous-looking  elephant.  His  skin 
was  too  loose.  But  the  Rajah  had  sent  him 
expressly  for  us  as  he  had  for  numerous  other 
chance  travelers,  and  will  continue  to  do  on 
request,  if  the  elephant  holds  together,  which 
on  account  of  his  generally  moth-eaten  ap- 
pearance is  doubtful.  He  was  a  dilapidated 
and  tumbled-down  elephant  with  one  tusk  and 
the  rheumatism.  On  his  back  was  a  howdah 
or  "howdahdo,"  as  the  Philosopher  called  it. 
The  mahout  talked  to  him  in  elephant  and 
prodded  him  in  the  neck.  This  seemed  a 
good  deal  of  liberty  to  take  with  an  elephant, 
but  he  came  down  laboriously,  trumpeting  a 
protest.  We  climbed  to  his  back  by  means 
of  a  ladder  and  he  rose,  one  end  at  a  time, 
rocking  like  a  boat.  Thus  perched  high 
above  the  earth  we  bobbed  along  and  tried  to 
adjust  ourselves  to  the  rolls  and  bumps  of 
elephant  gait.  The  Philosopher  walked 
back,  but  I  being  both  brave  and  lazy,  re- 
turned via  elephant.  Mark  Twain  said  he 
could  easily  learn  to  prefer  an  elephant  to  any 
other  vehicle,  but  the  Philosopher  would  pre- 
fer a  goat. 


== 

ca 


The  Royal  Elephant.  201 

The  interior  of  the  palace  is  not  equal  to 
the  peerless  palaces  of  Delhi  or  Agra,  or  even 
to  the  imposing  ruins  of  Futtehpore-Sikree. 
There  is  a  many-pillared  marble  hall  of  audi- 
ence, and  some  rooms  with  thousands  of  tiny 
mirrors  set  in  the  stucco  walls  and  ceilings. 
The  light  came  through  screens  of  marble 
filigree  instead  of  glazed  windows,  and  there 
were  many  niches  in  the  walls  for  lamps  to 
be  placed  behind  colored  glass.  Here  were 
the  only  old  art  windows  we  had  thus  far 
seen  in  India.  They  represent  scenes  from 
Hindoo  mythology,  and  have  strikingly  bril- 
liant and  beautiful  reds,  blues  and  greens. 
They  are  not  fragments  leaded  together,  but 
immense  single  panes,  hand-painted,  with  the 
colors  burned  in. 

From  the  pavilions  on  the  roof  there  was 
a  comprehensive  panorama  of  the  deserted 
city.  In  the  gardens  no  foliage  shaded  the 
marble  walks,  and  in  the  fountains  birds 
could  find  no  drink.  Away  in  the  distance, 
through  a  cleft  in  the  castellated  hills,  was 
the  glimmering  white  sand  of  the  desert  slow- 
ly filling  in  upon  deserted  and  desolate  Am- 
ber. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

BOMBAY THE  CAVES  OF  ELEPHANTA. 

From  the  veranda  in  front  of  my  window 
in  the  hotel  I  looked  out  upon  a  continuous 
pageant  of  oriental  life.  There  were  many 
nations  in  the  Indias  before  the  British  con- 
quest. I  think  they  were  all  represented  in 
the  procession  that  passed  in  the  street,  and 
besides  there  were  representatives  from  near- 
ly every  other  people  in  Europe,  Asia  and 
Africa.  Across  the  street  was  a  park  in  the 
very  center  of  the  city.  In  the  grassy  shade 
native  children,  dressed  like  cupids  without 
the  quiver,  romped  and  laughed  in  the  way 
of  children  the  world  over.  Above  the  bil- 
lowy green  of  the  tree  tops  rose  the  familiar 
Gothic  of  the  English  church. 

In  the  shade  of  the  park  trees,  the  street 
entertainers  held  continuous  performances. 
One  Hindoo  sat  on  his  heels  and  rattled  a 
gourd  to  attract  attention.  With  him  were 
two  grave  monkeys  and  a  goat.  The  mon- 
keys would  turn  somersaults  and  go  through 
the  manual  of  arms;  and  the  goat  would  walk 
a  globe  for  a  modest  consideration. 

102 


The  Parsees  and  the  Tower  of  Silence.    203 

Nearby  was  a  snake  charmer.  He  carried 
a  bag  of  snakes  and  led  a  mongoose  by  a 
cord.  He  untied  his  bag  and  played  a  few 
weird  notes  on  a  reed;  a  snake  came  out,  and 
coiling,  inflated  its  hood.  It  was  a  cobra. 
His  part  of  the  entertainment  was  to  fight  the 
mongoose.  A  mongoose  resembles  a  small 
coon.  He  has  thick  brown  fur,  beady,  red 
eyes  and  a  dissipated  nose.  He  is  a  sort  of 
thug  among  the  snakes.  He  has  a  perpetual 
grouch  and  kills  for  the  pleasure, — when  he 
does  not  get  himself  swallowed,  as  sometimes 
happens. 

The  Parsees  are  a  noticeable  people  on 
the  streets.  They  are  descendants  of  the 
ancient  Persians,  and  still  follow  the  religion 
of  Zoroaster,  or  fire  worship,  as  it  is  some- 
times called.  In  Bombay  they  are  the  lead- 
ers in  business,  finance,  education  and  phi- 
lanthropy. They  live  in  handsome  mansions 
on  Malabar  Hill,  and  in  the  afternoon  their 
victorias  may  be  seen  among  the  fashionable 
throng  on  the  Apollo  Bunder  Boulevard. 
Their  women  wrap  themselves  in  yards  of 
sheeny,  thin  silks  after  the  Greek  fashion. 
The  men  wear  a  peculiar  hat,  resembling  a 
rimless  silk  hat  with  the  rear  dented  in — a 
hat  which  if  seen  on  Broadway,  would  lay 


204  Oriental  Rambles. 

its  wearer  open  to  the  suspicion  of  having 
had  a  night  out  with  the  boys. 

The  Parsees  believe  the  elements,  fire, 
water  and  earth,  to  be  sacred,  and  should  not 
be  defiled  by  contact  with  the  dead.  There- 
fore they  place  their  dead  on  towers  called 
"Towers  of  Silence"  for  the  vultures  to  de- 
vour. 

A  sail  across  the  bay  to  the  Caves  of  Ele- 
phanta  brought  us  again  to  a  shrine  of  an- 
cient India.  This  rock-hewn  temple  is  one 
of  many  of  the  kind  in  India  and  Ceylon. 
The  images  and  the  columns  were  much  dam- 
aged by  the  cannon  of  the  Portuguese  who 
took  that  means  to  teach  the  Golden  Rule. 
The  Hindoo  name  is  "The  Hill  of  Purifica- 
tion." The  word  Elephanta  was  adopted 
by  the  Portuguese  on  account  of  the  colossal 
stone  elephants  that  stood  before  the  en- 
trance. These  ruins,  and  the  native  temples 
in  India  generally,  are  now  carefully  guarded 
and  protected  by  the  Anglo-Indian  govern- 
ment, in  sharp  contrast  with  the  iconoclastic 
fury  of  the  Portuguese. 

Bombay,  like  Calcutta,  is  so  Europeanized, 
that  having  seen  the  real  India  of  the  interior, 
there  is  little  to  hold  the  traveler  beyond  the 
next  sailing  day.  Consequently  we  were  soon 


Farewell  to  India.  205 

again  upon  the  placid  waters  of  the  Indian 
Ocean. 

Romance  and  beauty  there  is  in  plenty  in 
India,  but  it  is  so  deeply  buried  in  degrada- 
tion and  desolation  that  it  does  not  appear  at 
first  glance.  In  time,  when  the  unpleasant 
things  have  been  somewhat  obscured  by  a 
merciful  forgetfulness,  the  poetry  and  subtle 
charm  peep  through  the  picture,  and  ever 
after  we  treasure  the  memories  of  the  mag- 
nificent East, — the  land  of  great  things,  good 
and  bad, — the  cradle  of  the  human  race. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE  INDIAN  OCEAN,  AND  THE  RED  SEA. 

The  Indian  Ocean  in  winter  is  an  ideal  sea 
for  the  smooth-water  sailor.  We  remem- 
bered the  tossing,  cold  North  Pacific  with  a 
shudder.  During  the  days  the  passengers 
played  shuffle-board,  quoits,  poker  and  other 
deck  games,  or  read  and  dozed  in  steamer 
chairs.  In  the  star-lit  evenings  there  were 
concerts,  dances,  flirtations  and  lemon  squash- 
es to  suit  everyone.  The  shadowy  fore-deck, 
or  flirtation  parlor,  as  the  Philosopher  called 
it,  was  a  favorite  retreat  for  young  couples  to 
study  the  sparkling  phosphorescence  of  the 
waters  as  they  curled  away  from  the  prow. 

In  the  early  morning  the  sailors  hosed 
down  the  decks.  Then  the  men  passengers 
went  up  in  their  pajamas  and  walked  in  their 
bare  feet  on  the  cool,  damp  deck,  took  deep 
breaths  of  the  delicious  air,  drank  their  coffee, 
and  envied  the  Lascar  sailors  who  can  go  all 
day  in  bare  feet  and  pajamas  and  sail  such 
an  ocean  as  long  as  they  live.  For  days  we 
saw  no  ships, — nothing  but  sea,  and  sky,  and 
horizon,  and  the  ruffled  waters  of  our  wake. 


Mount  Sinai  and  Moses'  Well,       207 

At  Aden  it  rained.  This  is  not  mentioned 
as  news,  but  as  a  marvel,  for  Aden  is  sup- 
posed to  be  the  driest  place  on  earth.  It  ap- 
peared like  a  mammoth  ash  heap.  Somali 
boys  came  alongside  and  dived  for  coins. 
Negroes  from  Somaliland  on  the  African 
coast,  and  Arabs  from  Aden  clambered  on 
deck  to  sell  their  ostrich  plumes,  eggs,  bas- 
kets and  other  curios,  but  they  were  ordered 
off,  and  the  hose  turned  on  them  to  accele- 
rate their  departure. 

As  we  drew  towards  the  northern  end  of 
the  Red  Sea,  a  brown  irregular  line  rose  on 
the  eastern  horizon,  and  steadily  grew  until 
the  Sinaitic  range  of  mountains  spread  their 
barren  and  ragged  outlines  against  the  tur- 
quois  blue  of  the  Arabian  sky. 

Mount  Sinai,  the  mountain  of  the  law,  can 
be  seen,  so  the  mate  said,  for  a  few  minutes 
at  a  certain  point  of  the  course,  but  like  the 
proverbial  golden  opportunity,  it  is  easily 
missed.  The  eastern  shore  stretched  away 
in  hillocks  of  drifting  sand  to  the  sun-baked 
mountains  that  are  rocky  and  torn,  like  vol- 
canoes long  burned  out,  and  barren  as  the 
surface  of  the  moon. 

Near  Suez  there  is  an  oasis,  a  catch  of 
green  and  a  few  trees  on  the  sandy  plain. 


2o8  Oriental  Rambles. 

This  is  Moses'  Well,  the  place  where  Moses 
smote  the  rock  and  the  water  came  forth,  and 
behold  it  was  bitter.  The  water  is  still  bitter. 
It  is  now  an  Egyptian  quarantine  station,  a 
bulwark  for  Europe  against  the  plagues  of 
India.  Some  of  our  fellow  passengers  who 
have  been  detained  there  said  the  accommo- 
dations have  not  improved  since  Moses'  time. 
Opposite  the  spring  is  the  place  in  the  Red 
Sea  where  Moses  divided  the  waters,  and  the 
children  of  Israel  passed  over,  dry  shod,  but 
Pharaoh's  host  was  swallowed  up.  The  mate 
said  sailors  often  bring  up  on  their  anchors, 
swords,  muskets,  chariot  wheels  and  things; 
but  he  did  not  have  any  for  souvenirs  just 
at  that  time. 

Moses  divided  the  sea,  but  De  Lesseps  di- 
vided the  land.  When  we  sat  at  dinner  in 
the  saloon  while  steaming  through  the  Suez 
Canal,  we  could  look  through  the  port  holes 
on  either  side  and  see  nothing  but  sandy  des- 
ert. We  went  through  the  canal  in  sixteen 
hours.  During  the  night  our  search-lights 
enabled  us  to  proceed  at  the  same  speed  as  in 
the  day.  I  was  informed  the  toll  for  our 
ship  amounted  to  ten  thousand  dollars, 
which  seemed  incredible. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

HOW  WE   BROKE  INTO  EGYPT THE  REWARD 

OF   HONESTY. 

Port  Said  is  supposed  to  be  the  wickedest 
city  of  its  size  in  the  world.  It  looked  inno- 
cent enough  with  the  shields  of  the  various 
national  consulates  displayed  from  buildings 
along  the  water  front.  In  the  town  the  prin- 
cipal business  seemed  to  be  the  selling  of 
curios  and  antiques  which  looked  suspiciously 
new. 

Here  we  disembarked  for  Cairo,  but  first 
we  had  to  go  to  the  quarantine  station.  The 
very  sound  of  the  word  "quarantine"  filled 
us  with  shivers  of  dread,  and  forebodings  of 
evil,  for  we  had  come  from  plague-infested 
India,  and  had  heard  uncanny  tales  of  Moses' 
Well,  the  quarantine  pen  and  other  Egyp- 
tian health  resorts. 

The  passengers  for  Egypt  and  their  bag- 
gage, were  loaded  into  boats,  and  the  flo- 
tilla, tied  together  like  canal  boats,  was  towed 
by  a  hysterical  tug  up  the  canal  a  mile  to  the 
dreaded  quarantine  station.  A  dragoman 
had  been  sent  to  help  us  through,  and  he 


2io  Oriental  Rambles. 

stood  in  the  prow  of  the  boat  like  Washing- 
ton crossing  the  Delaware.  He  was  to  be 
our  interpreter  and  protector,  and  when  we 
looked  upon  him  we  were  reassured,  for  he 
had  a  long  cimeter,  a  fierce  red  face,  and  awe- 
inspiring  clothing.  He  wore  a  blue  Turkish 
jacket  wonderfully  embroidered  in  gold 
braid,  and  Turkey  red  cotton  trousers  with  a 
lamentable  absence  of  fit.  They  apparently 
were  cut  to  fit  a  pear.  Their  voluminous 
folds  were  gathered  around  the  ankles,  but 
there  was  an  appalling  redundancy  of  seat 
which  trailed  in  a  pouch  between  his  feet  like 
the  generous  stomach  of  a  goose  that  had 
overlaid  itself.  On  the  back  of  his  head  was 
a  red  fez  with  a  flame  of  a  tassel  that  snapped 
with  the  energy  of  his  gesticulation.  He  as- 
sured us  we  were  not  to  be  detained,  but  only 
baked,  boiled,  steamed  and  sterilized  for  the 
public  safety. 

The  quarantine  station  proved  to  be  a  dock 
with  a  corrugated  iron  roof  and  a  terrifying 
machine  on  wheels  like  an  ancient  locomotive. 
Into  its  fiery  furnace  an  Arab  was  shoveling 
coal.  Above  was  an  oven  about  the  size  of 
a  tourist,  and  from  it  came  the  sound  of  es- 
caping steam.  That  was  the  sterilization 
plant  and  they  were  ready  for  us.  Some  of 


Our  Awe-inspiring  Dragoman.        21 1 

us  were  nervous.  The  prospect  for  baked 
tourist  was  good.  The  native  boys  who  came 
with  us  jumped  overboard  and  escaped. 

A  wordy  war  was  going  on  between  our 
dragoman  and  the  Egyptian  health  officer. 
They  talked  in  Egyptian  and  with  both 
hands.  It  was  plain  they  were  very  angry 
and  swearing  frightfully.  What  would  we 
do  without  our  brave  defender!  Finally  he 
turned  to  us  smiling  and  said: 

"It  is  all  right;  all  they  want  is  your  soiled 
linen." 

Ladies  who  had  looked  bravely  into  the 
fiery  furnace  turned  pale  with  dismay.  They 
grazed  at  one  another,  but  no  one  moved. 
They  were  paralyzed  with  fear. 

Cotton  bags  to  receive  the  linen  were 
handed  around.  The  Philosopher  from  Phil- 
adelphia, being  like  all  Philadelphians,  strict- 
ly honest,  opened  his  trunk  and  stuffed  in  his 
entire  laundrv.  Another  man  compromised 
with  his  conscience  bv  hesitatingly  opening  his 
handbag  and  surreptitiously  extracting  a  suit 
of  pajamas  which  he  turned  over  to  the 
strong  arm  of  the  law. 

In  the  midst  of  this  turmoil,  an  experienced 
traveler,  being  a  diplomat,  if  not  worse,  de- 
nied that  he  had  any  soiled  linen  whatsoever. 


2i2  Oriental  Rambles. 

Since  India  he  had  not  even  changed  his  shirt. 
It  was  a  brave  thing  to  say,  but  it  seemed  to 
go.  It  appeared  natural  enough  to  the 
Egyptians.  They  understood  it.  He  was 
excused.  Then  a  strange  thing  happened. 
Not  another  passenger  would  confess  to  the 
possession  of  a  scrap  of  soiled  linen,  so  the 
proceedings  came  to  an  abrupt  termination. 

The  laundry  was  returned  dripping  wet 
and  steaming  hot  to  the  two  honest  men;  and 
then  they  had  the  reward  for  their  honesty. 
They  were  required  to  pay  a  shilling  for  each 
article,  which  proved  quite  a  tax  on  the  very 
honest  man — the  Philosopher  from  Phila- 
delphia, who  had  given  his  all  in  the  laundry 
list.  He  thought  they  should  iron  it  for  that 
amount. 

But  our  troubles  were  not  over.  We  still 
had  to  run  the  gauntlet  at  the  custom  house 
before  we  could  go  up  into  Egypt  land.  We 
were  towed  to  another  dock,  and  our  luggage 
dumped  on  the  platform  where  the  Egyptian 
custom  officers  lay  in  wait  for  us. 

However,  they  seemed  remarkably  mild 
and  confiding  for  custom  officers,  for  they 
were  rapidly  putting  their  chalk  marks  on  the 
baggage  of  the  entire  shipload  of  passen- 
gers as  they  hurried  to  the  train.  There  was 


At  the  Quarantine  Station.  213 

no  annoyance,  no  trouble  in  sight.  It  was  a 
remarkably  cheerful  place — for  a  custom 
house.  Our  dragoman  took  possession  of 
our  keys,  and  remarked  with  a  falling  inflex- 
ion, as  an  eyelid  slowly  drooped,  "No  duti- 
able goods,  I  suppose." 

It  was  a  mistake  to  have  taken  the  Phi- 
losopher into  the  custom  house  at  all.  He 
should  have  been  safely  put  aboard  the  train 
with  a  guide  book  and  a  cigar.  It  is  strange 
how  the  habit  of  honesty  will  grow  on  a 
person.  At  first  it  may  be  indulged  in  as  a 
mild  recreation  or  dissipation,  but  the  sen- 
sation is  so  strange  and  enticing  that  the 
habit  grows  until  the  victim  becomes  hope- 
lessly honest  and  in  no  condition  to  be  trusted 
alone  in  a  custom  house.  I  saw  the  mistake, 
but  it  was  too  late ;  he  had  made  the  fatal  ad- 
mission that  he  might  possibly  have  half  a 
box  of  cigars  somewhere  in  his  trunks. 

The  officer  was  plainly  astonished  at  such 
an  unusual  admission.  He  was  so  skeptical 
about  it  that  nothing  short  of  seeing  them 
with  his  own  eyes  would  convince  him  that 
the  statement  was  true.  He  demanded  to 
see  the  cigars.  That  required  that  the  trunks 
be  opened,  but  through  some  mistake,  our 
dragoman  opened  the  wrong  trunk.  It  be- 


214  Oriental  Rambles. 

longed  to  the  diplomat  of  the  quarantine  sta- 
tion, and  he  was  displeased  about  it;  for 
there,  before  the  astonished  gaze  of  the  offi- 
cer, lay  his  forgotten  dutiable  articles — all  his 
purchase  and  plunder  of  the  "purple  east" — 
silks,  embroideries,  tiger  skins,  and  ivories. 
There  was  duty  to  pay,  and  perhaps,  fright- 
ful penalties  for  having  such  a  poor  memory. 

The  diplomat  explained  that  he  was  only 
passing  through  Egypt;  that  rather  than  pay 
heavy  duties  he  would  express  the  whole  lot 
through  to  London.  It  was  no  use;  he  had 
deceived  the  government;  the  government 
was  angry  and  he  must  pay.  The  officer  was 
positive  about  it.  He  said  so  in  seven  lan- 
guages and  at  last  in  English.  Train  time 
was  approaching.  We  had  missed  our  din- 
ner over  this  custom  muddle  and  were  likely 
to  miss  our  train.  The  diplomat  capitulated 
to  Egypt  and  asked  for  the  amount  of  the 
duty. 

The  officer  plunged  an  arm  into  one  cor- 
ner of  the  open  trunk,  contemplated  the  oth- 
ers from  a  distance,  and  began  to  figure. 

"Never  mind  the  harrowing  details,"  said 
the  diplomat,  "give  us  the  terrible  total." 

"Thirty-three  piastres,"  declared  the  offi- 
cer, and  proceeded  to  chalk  all  our  trunks. 


At  the  Custom  House.  215 

The  diplomat  was  delighted,  for  thirty- 
three  piastres  are  equivalent  to  only  $1.65  in 
real  money. 

As  our  dragoman  got  him  into  the  diffi- 
culty he  volunteered  to  help  him  out.  "If 
you  will  all  go  on  the  train,"  he  said,  "I  will 
attend  to  this  business." 

We  were  well  toward  Cairo  when  the 
dragoman  appeared  to  return  our  keys  and 
report  the  trunks  were  on  board.  As  the 
diplomat  received  his  keys  he  said,  "I  will 
settle  with  you  for  the  duties  you  paid." 

"I  did  not  pay  the  duties,"  declared  the 
dragoman. 

"Neither  did  I,"  said  the  diplomat. 

"Neither  did  I,"  echoed  the  Philosopher. 

"But  who  did?" 

"At  any  rate  my  conscience  is  clear,"  said 
the  Philosopher.  "It  was  my  duty  to  declare, 
and  their  duty  to  collect.  I  have  observed 
that  after  all,  honesty  is  the  best  policy — if 
you  are  caught  at  it." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

PORT  SAID  TO  CAIRO. 

The  ride  from  Port  Said  to  Cairo  is  full  of 
interest.  Even  the  brown  desert  has  a  charm 
because  it  is  so  frankly  and  thoroughly  a 
desert.  Over  that  course  through  which  we 
rolled  so  rapidly  and  comfortably  in  palace 
cars,  have  passed  the  hosts  of  conquering  ar- 
mies. 

If  the  sands  could  speak,  they  could  tell  of 
conquerors,  whose  names  were  forgotten  be- 
fore history  was  carved  on  stone.  They 
could  tell  of  Rameses  and  his  triumph;  of  the 
children  of  Israel  brought  captives  in  chains; 
of  Moses,  Aaron  and  David;  of  the  fleeing 
Israelites,  and  the  pursuing  hosts  of  Pharaoh ; 
perhaps  of  the  Queen  of  Sheba  journeying 
from  her  Arabian  capital;  of  Cambyses  the 
Persian;  Alexander  the  Great;  of  the  humble 
Mary  and  Joseph  fleeing  into  Egypt  with  the 
Christ  child;  of  Julius  Caesar;  and  of  Napo- 
leon pressing  on  to  the  seige  of  Jaffa,  eager 
with  ambition  to  found  an  Asiatic  Empire, 
and  repeat  the  conquests  of  Tamerlane.  Per- 
haps if  his  plans  had  not  miscarried,  Europe 


The  Evolution  of  Civilization.        217 

would  have  been  spared  that  carnival  of 
blood  during  his  revival  of  the  Empire  of 
Charlemagne. 

The  peculiar  natural  conditions  of  the  Nile 
valley  were  especially  favorable  for  the  early 
development  of  civilization.  Upon  the  an- 
nual inundation  of  the  valley  depended  the 
prosperity  of  the  people.  This  fact,  together 
with  the  mystery  of  its  source,  caused  it  to  be 
invested  with  sanctity,  and  considered  with 
reverence  by  the  early  Egyptians.  On  ac- 
count of  the  great  fertility  of  the  soil,  a  dense 
population  could  be  supported.  The  neces- 
sity of  controlling  the  currents,  and  the  build- 
ing of  irrigating  canals,  led  to  the  develop- 
ment of  the  science  of  engineering.  As  the 
annual  inundation  obliterated  the  boundaries 
between  the  individual  holdings,  it  became 
necessary  to  re-survey  boundaries  and  keep 
permanent  records.  This  developed  the 
science  of  surveying  and  mathematics.  To 
settle  the  disputes  that  would  naturally  arise, 
courts  were  established,  and  fixed  rules,  or 
laws,  adopted.  This  developed  a  judicial  sys- 
tem. To  foretell  the  dates  when  inundations 
would  occur,  the  phases  of  the  moon  and  the 
constellations  of  the  starry  heavens  were  ob- 
served. Thus  calendars  were  tabulated  and 


2i8  Oriental  Rambles. 

the  study  of  astronomy  was  fostered.  To 
record  all  these  facts  a  system  of  written  char- 
acters became  necessary,  and  the  priesthood, 
which  was  the  learned  class,  evolved  the  writ- 
ten language  known  as  hieroglyphics.  For 
economy  and  convenience,  a  plant  that  grows 
plentifully  in  the  lower  Nile  was  used  to 
make  a  surface  upon  which  to  write.  That 
plant  was  the  papyrus  and  the  product  was 
called  paper.  In  this  manner  was  laid  the 
foundation  of  the  political,  legal,  social  and 
scientific  system  which  we  call  civilization. 

Towards  evening  we  saw  a  green  valley 
ahead,  and  the  glimmer  of  the  waters  of  "Fa- 
ther Nile."  Beyond  was  the  Libyan  desert, 
and  on  its  edge  were  three  pyramids  like 
geometrical  blocks.  At  last  we  were  in  Egypt , 
— the  land  of  the  lotus  and  papyrus,  and  the 
spell  of  its  mystery  was  upon  us. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

CAIRO  AND  THE  MOSQUES THE  PHILOSO- 
PHER OBJECTS  TO  MOHAMMEDISM. 

At  Cairo  the  orient  and  the  Occident  meet, 
but  do  not  blend.  Each  preserves  its  own 
characteristics.  In  the  great  hotels  may  be 
found  European  luxury  to  satisfy  the  most 
exacting  of  the  wealthy  tourists  who  find  in 
the  sunlight  of  Egypt  refuge  from  the  rigors 
of  northern  winters. 

Here  the  traveler  may  ride  in  a  victoria  or 
an  automobile.  If  he  prefers  the  oriental 
mode  of  rapid  transit  he  may  stride  the  di- 
minutive donkey,  some  of  which  are  so  small 
they  have  been  known  to  walk  out  from  be- 
tween the  legs  of  a  particularly  tall  tourist 
when  he  inadvertently  rested  his  feet  upon 
the  ground.  Or  he  may  perch  upon  the  apex 
of  a  camel  and  be  shaken  and  groaned  at  by 
that  supercilious  and  over-praised  "ship  of 
the  desert." 

If  he  pleases  the  tourist  may  sail  up  the 
Nile  in  a  dahabeah  to  Abydos,  Thebes, 
Karnak,  and  Philae.  Day  after  day  he  may 
laze  in  his  hammock  under  deck  awnings,  and 


220  Oriental  Rambles. 

dream  of  the  glory  of  Egypt  that  has  depart- 
ed. He  may  bask  in  the  warm  sunlight  and 
breathe  the  pure  air  of  the  desert.  He  may 
watch  the  passing  dahabeahs  propelled  by 
lanteen  sails  or  by  men  with  long  sweeps  as 
in  the  time  of  Cleopatra.  He  may  see  the 
descendants  of  the  ancient  Egyptians  work- 
ing at  the  shadoofs,  or  well  sweeps,  with 
leathern  buckets  by  which  water  is  raised 
from  the  Nile  to  the  irrigating  ditches.  He 
may  see  barren  deserts,  brown  hills,  green 
meadows,  palm  groves,  mud  villages,  and  the 
endless  procession  of  bare-footed  women  in 
flowing  robes  of  blue  cotton,  coming  to  the 
bank,  and  carrying  away  urns  of  water  on 
their  heads.  At  his  pleasure  the  tourist  may 
moor  his  dahabeah  at  the  bank  and  visit 
the  native  market  places.  He  will  see  the 
wild  Bedouins  of  the  desert  and  the  strange 
people  from  darkest  Africa.  He  may  see 
their  native  dances  and  be  present  at  their 
festivals.  He  may  explore  ruined  temples 
and  subterranean  tombs,  and  purchase  scara- 
bees,  statuettes  and  antiquities  that  may  have 
been  dragged  from  the  tomb  of  a  king  which 
had  been  concealed  in  the  hills  for  five  thou- 
sand years,  or  may  have  been  made  in  Ger- 
many last  month. 


Amusements  to  Please  AIL  221 

Cairo  is  only  an  upstart  city  of  a  thousand 
years  old, — a  mere  yesterday  in  Egypt.  It 
was  built  by  the  Arabian  conqueror  on  the 
ruins  of  New  Babylon  which  had  been  founded 
by  Cambyses  the  Babylonian.  It  contains  the 
purest  examples  of  Saracenic  architecture, 
and  is  the  center  of  education  and  culture  of 
the  Moslem  world.  In  a  few  minutes  walk 
from  the  luxurious  hotels  one  may  find  quar- 
ters of  old  Cairo,  where  the  Arabian  civiliza- 
tion is  hardly  scratched.  It  is  as  it  was  hun- 
dreds of  years  ago. 

The  traveler  soon  gets  accustomed  to  see- 
ing mosques,  for  one  is  always  in  sight.  We 
naturally  dropped  into  them  as  we  did  into 
the  temples  of  Japan,  and  the  tombs  in  India. 

There  is  nothing  more  pleasing  in  archi- 
tecture than  a  Saracenic  arch,  nothing  so 
graceful  as  a  minaret.  The  heavy  Roman, 
the  ornate  Renaissance  and  the  classic  Greek 
command  respect  and  admiration,  but  they 
are  the  prose  of  architecture  while  the  light 
and  airy  Saracenic  is  the  poetry.  The  Sara- 
cenes  built  not  so  much  to  defy  time  and 
earthquakes,  as  to  please  the  eye  and  cheer 
the  heart.  The  style  suggests  happiness,  song 
and  laughter,  the  splashing  of  fountains  and 
the  perfume  of  flowers.  It  is  not  merely  the 


222  Oriental  Rambles. 

proportions  that  please  but  the  exquisite  art 
of  the  decorative  finish.  If  you  enter  a  mosque 
and  behold  the  rich  mellow  tints  of  the 
tiles  in  the  wall;  the  intricate  arabesque  of 
the  ceilings;  the  brilliant  mosaics  of  the  pulpit 
and  prayer  niche,  with  their  geometrical  pat- 
terns in  ivory,  ebony,  jasper,  and  mother-of- 
pearl,  you  will  say  with  the  Moslem,  "Here 
I  will  rest  awhile  and  be  content." 

The  mosques  are  always  open.  In  them 
are  no  images,  no  pictures,  no  seats;  but  the 
true  believers  are  always  coming  and  going. 
The  Arab  with  his  fine  physique,  his  flowing 
robes  and  dignified  turban  commands  respect; 
he  is  picturesque  withal  and  looks  his  best  in 
a  mosque.  He  is  becoming  to  the  architec- 
ture and  they  combine  to  make  the  picture  as 
it  should  be. 

The  religion  of  Islam  requires  five  things 
absolutely:  prayer  five  times  every  day;  the 
observation  of  bodily  cleanliness;  the  pil- 
grimage to  Mecca;  the  bestowal  of  alms  on 
the  poor;  and  the  keeping  of  the  fast  of  Ram- 
adan, during  which  for  forty  days  no  food 
whatever  must  pass  the  lips  between  sunrise 
and  sunset.  All  alcoholic  liquors  are  strictly 
forbidden  by  Mohammed. 

When  a  follower  of  the  Prophet  desires 


Saracenic  Architecture.  223 

to  do  a  good  act,  he  builds  a  mosque  and  set- 
tles upon  it  an  endowment  for  its  support  and 
maintenance.  There  are  no  regular  congre- 
gations; everyone  may  equally  enjoy  its  ad- 
vantages. If  the  endowment  fails  it  gradu- 
ally falls  into  ruin.  A  good  many  seem  to 
have  failed  in  Cairo. 

To  a  Moslem  a  mosque  is  more  than  a 
church  to  be  used  fifty-two  times  a  year.  It 
is  a  house  of  constant  prayer  and  a  place  of 
refuge.  There  he  may  rest  and  escape  the 
mid-day  heat.  There  he  may  refresh  himself 
with  food  which  he  has  brought,  and  quench 
his  thirst  at  the  fountain;  the  poor  man  may 
roll  himself  in  his  blanket  and  sleep;  he  may 
sew  on  his  buttons  and  repair  his  clothing;  he 
may  read  his  book  or  study  the  Koran. 

From  a  balcony  encircling  a  slender  min- 
aret, one  frequently  hears  the  voice  of  the 
Muezzin  calling  the  faithful  to  prayer.  Five 
times  a  day  he  walks  around  the  balcony 
chanting  the  familiar  cry,  "Allah  Akbar;  Al- 
lah Akbar;  la  Allah  ill'  Allah;  Heyya  alas- 
salah."  "God  is  great;  God  is  great;  there 
is  no  God  but  God,  and  Mohammed  is  his 
prophet;  Come  to  prayer." 

The  followers  of  the  prophet  enter  the 
court  and  at  the  fountain  wash  their  feet, 


224  Oriental  Rambles. 

faces,  and  mouths.  They  enter  the  mosque 
barefooted,  leaving  their  sandals  at  the  door. 
Facing  the  prayer  niche,  which  indicates  the 
direction  of  Mecca,  they  pray  to  the  one  God 
— which  in  the  Arabic  language  is  called  Al- 
lah, and  in  Hebrew  is  called  Jehovah.  The 
God  of  Moses  and  Aaron;  the  God  of  the 
Jew  and  of  the  Christian. 

Unbelievers  in  the  Prophet  are  welcome  to 
enter  and  remain  as  long  as  they  like,  the 
only  requirement  being  their  shoes  must  be 
covered  by  mosque  slippers,  which  are  fur- 
nished at  the  door. 

The  Mohammedans  come  very  near  to 
following  the  injunction  "Pray  without  ceas- 
ing." No  matter  what  the  work  or  business 
on  hand  may  be,  the  Moslem,  who  follows 
the  injunction  of  the  Prophet,  interrupts  it 
five  times  a  day  long  enough  to  turn  his  face 
toward  Mecca  and  say  a  prayer.  It  is  no 
strange  sight  to  see  a  laborer  throw  down  his 
tools;  devote  a  few  moments  to  his  religious 
duty,  then  resume  with  renewed  energy  to 
make  up  for  lost  time.  The  merchant  prays 
in  his  booth,  the  sailor  on  the  deck  of  his 
boat;  even  my  donkey  boy  ceased  calling 
maledictions  on  the  head  of  my  donkey, 
"Yankee  Doodle,"  long  enough  to  mumble  a 


The  Religion  of  Islam,  225 

prayer  which  I  hope  was  a  plea  for  forgive- 
ness. 

Our  dragoman  told  the  Philosopher  from 
Philadelphia,  that  Mohammedism  is  still 
growing  in  Asia  and  Africa.  He  recited 
some  of  the  Koran,  declaring  that  in  time  all 
the  world  would  become  followers  of  the 
Prophet.  I  think  he  was  trying  to  convert 
Phil,  but  the  Philosopher  thought  such  a  re- 
ligion would  be  inconvenient  for  every  day 
use,  and  that  it  would  never  become  popular 
in  America. 

"Imagine,"  he  said,  "the  bulls  and  bears 
of  Wall  Street,  the  people  in  the  department 
stores,  or  even  the  street  car  conductors,  or 
the  icemen  interrupting  their  pursuit  of  the 
almighty  dollar,  five  times  a  day — to  pray. 
How  could  a  religion  become  popular  which 
requires  a  six  weeks'  ride  on  the  hump  of  a 
camel  across  a  burning  desert  to  worship  be- 
fore a  shrine  of  Mohammed  in  Mecca,  when 
there  is  a  shrine  of  chance  wide  open  in  Sara- 
toga; a  shrine  of  beauty  on  the  sands  of  At- 
lantic City;  and  a  shrine  of  Epicurus  at  the 
end  of  almost  any  automobile  run?  The 
Americans  will  never  submit  to  polygamy. 
What  chance  would  a  man  have  against  five 
mothers-in-law?  Imagine  the  chaos  that 


226  Oriental  Rambles. 

would  result  if  that  command  of  Mohammed 
prohibiting  alcoholic  liquors  was  observed. 
How  could  we  manage  our  elections?  How 
would  we  keep  our  army  of  policemen  busy? 
How  would  we  fill  our  large  and  commodious 
jails?  How  could  we  even  enjoy  a  good  din- 
ner, or  entertain  our  friends,  the  'jolly  good 
fellows?'" 

No,  Mohammedism  is  not  suited  to  the 
strenuous  life  of  Europe  or  America.  Still, 
with  all  our  superior  civilization  we  can  learn 
something  of  the  advantages  of  temperate 
living  from  the  Orientals. 

"  When  at  the  bowl's  deep  brink, 
Let  the  thirsty  think 

What  they  say  in  Japan, 
'  First  the  man  takes  a  drink, 
Then  the  drink  takes  a  drink, 

Then  the  drink  takes  the  man.'  " 


CHAPTER  XL. 

DONKEY  BOY  DIPLOMACY STREET  PICTURES 

—AN  ANTIQUE  UNIVERSITY. 

There  is  no  better  way  to  see  Cairo  than 
from  the  spine  of  a  donkey.  It  is  not  grace- 
ful and  not  over-comfortable;  for  your  don- 
key boy,  who  runs  behind,  will  smite  the 
beast  more  mightily  than  did  Balaam;  and 
Yankee  Doodle,  Bonaparte,  or  whatever  his 
name  may  be,  will  cavort  and  trot  with  stiff 
knees  until  you  plead  for  a  slower  pace. 

The  names  of  these  donkeys  are  wonder- 
fully contrived.  They  vary  with  the  nation- 
ality of  the  employer.  The  shrewd  donkey 
boys,  who  stand  in  front  of  the  hotels,  assign 
them  names  from  time  to  time  to  please  one 
and  all.  They  are  accurate  guessers  of  na- 
tionality, and  an  American,  no  matter  how 
English  his  pith  helmet  may  be,  or  how  many 
pugarees  he  may  wind  around  his  hat,  is  sure 
to  be  met  with  such  salutations  as  "Please 
mister,  mine  good  donkey;  give  you  long 
ride;  name  'George  Washington,'  or  'Yan- 
kee Doodle.'  "  But  if  a  traveler  comes  along 
who  bears  the  unmistakable  signs  of  an  Eng- 
lishman, they  will  say,  "Come  have  nice  ride, 

2*7 


228  Oriental  Rambles. 

my  donkey,  name  'Prince  of  Wales'  or 
'Gladstone.'  '  If  one  appears  who  wears  an 
imperial  and  talks  with  his  hands  you  will 
hear  something  that  sounds  like,  "Allez  mon 
chevalet;  mon  tres  joli  'Bonaparte.'  '  If  a 
man  marches  out  of  the  hotel,  talking  in  his 
throat  and  choking  with  languages,  they  will 
cry,  "Das  Asel  ist  nicht  spitzpuperi  gemacht, 
namen,  'Bismarck,'  Hoch  der  Kaiser."  And 
all  the  time  it  will  be  the  same  jackass  by  the 
name  of  Bill. 

Having  mounted  the  donkey  with  the  most 
attractive  name  you  will  see  strange  sights 
in  the  native  quarter.  Some  streets  are  so 
narrow  that  only  one  donkey  can  pass  at  a 
time,  and  if  you  should  meet  another  donkey, 
or  rather  if  your  donkey  should  meet  another 
donkey,  it  would  be  necessary  for  one  of  them 
to  squeeze  against  a  doorway  to  allow  the 
other  to  pass.  As  you  proceed  through  the 
narrow  streets  the  boy  cries  in  Arabic,  the 
warning,  "Take  heed,  fair  maid;"  "Beware, 
O  Chief,"  and  passersby  flatten  themselves 
against  the  walls.  The  donkey  picks  his  way 
among  the  crowds  with  almost  human  cau- 
tion, and  apologizes  with  his  gentle  eyes  if 
he  crowds  against  a  person. 

The  vendors  of  drinking  water  and  lemon- 


Seeing  Cairo  by  Donkey.  229 

ade  carry  their  goods  in  goat  skins  on  their 
backs.  They  jingle  brass  drinking  bowls  to- 
gether, as  they  cry,  "A  drink  for  the  thirsty 
— sweet  water,  O  Chief — nectar  for  the 
faithful, — a  drink  in  the  name  of  Allah." 

The  Philosopher  says,  "If  the  custom  of 
poetical  cries  for  hucksters  should  extend  to 
America,  we  may  expect  to  hear:  "Peanuts 
good  people,  sweet  fruit  of  the  sand;  how 
beautiful  are  the  gems  of  Virginia.  Peanuts 
O,  small  boy,"  and  instead  of  the  rancous  de- 
mand of  a  rude  iceman  we  will  hear  the  gen- 
tle call,  "Ice,  oh  beautiful  lady;  ice  for  the 
cooler;  cold  butter  for  the  biscuits;  winter 
frost  for  the  summer  nectar,  ice,  oh  damsel, 
fair." 

The  Arabic  tongue  is  not  only  poetical  in 
style  but  pleasing  to  the  ear.  Mohammed 
said,  "I  love  the  Arabic  language  because  I 
am  an  Arab;  because  the  Koran  is  in  Arabic; 
and  because  Arabic  is  the  language  of  para- 
dise." When  printed  it  looks  like  shorthand 
gone  wrong.  Our  numerals  are  Arabic  and 
they  are  shorthand  when  compared  to  the 
cumbersome  Roman. 

We  visited  the  old  university  of  El  Azhar, 
the  splendid.  This  school  has  been  a  center 
of  Mohammedan  learning  for  a  thousand 


230  Oriental  Rambles. 

years.  During  the  fourteenth  century  it  is 
said  to  have  had  as  many  as  twenty  thousand 
students.  Now  it  has  perhaps  five  thousand. 
It  continues  to  send  its  graduates  throughout 
all  Islam  from  Samarkand  to  Philippopolis, 
and  Trebizond  to  Timbuctoo,  wherever  they 
are.  It  seems  like  an  incredible  distance  to 
me. 

El  Azhar  is  conservative.  Its  curriculum 
includes  the  Koran,  which  is  committed  to 
memory,  grammar,  rhetoric,  versification, 
Arabic  and  Persian  literature,  elocution,  ora- 
tory, logic,  mathematics,  law  and  probably 
other  subjects;  but  modern  sciences  and  origi- 
nal research  are  sadly  neglected.  Tuition  is 
free,  and  all  students,  may,  if  they  like,  sleep 
on  the  floor,  eat  their  food,  and  have  their 
heads  shaven  by  the  tonsorial  artist  within 
the  courts. 

The  students  sit  upon  the  floor  and  study, 
bobbing  their  heads.  This  swaying  of  the 
head  is  a  natural  inclination  of  children  the 
world  over.  Perhaps  it  helps  to  shake  down 
the  lessons  on  the  principle  of  a  grain  hop- 
per, but  in  the  Mussulman  it  is  a  habit  ac- 
quired by  the  rule  that  the  head  is  to  be  bowed 
every  time  the  word  Allah  is  spoken.  In  the 
great  court,  the  students  sat  on  the  pavement 


El  Azhar,  the  Splendid.  231 

in  groups  surrounding  the  teachers,  and  as 
all  studied  aloud  there  was  a  constant  hum  of 
voices. 

At  one  side  of  the  court  there  is  an  open 
hall  whose  roof  is  supported  by  one  hundred 
and  eight  graceful  columns  of  granite,  mar- 
ble, and  alabaster.  Near  the  pulpit,  two  are 
set  close  together.  There  is  a  legend  that 
only  honest  men  can  pass  between  them.  The 
columns  are  well  worn  by  those  who  have 
squeezed  through.  Our  dragoman  related 
the  sad  plight  of  a  portly  lady,  with  an  hour- 
glass figure,  who  got  stuck  between  the  pillars 
at  her  narrowest  point,  and  was  extricated 
with  considerable  difficulty  by  a  lot  of  alarm- 
ed students.  He  said  the  legend  had  nothing 
to  say  about  women,  so  the  portent  was  un- 
reliable. 

There  is  a  fascination  about  the  native  ba- 
zaars which  draws  the  traveler  there  many 
times.  He  may  roam  at  leisure  among  cool 
labyrinthian  passages  protected  from  the  sun 
by  gaily  colored  awnings.  The  booths  are 
wide  open  to  the  street  and  often  no  larger 
than  American  show  windows.  He  may  see 
the  silversmiths,  the  brasscutters  and  slipper- 
makers,  intent  upon  their  work  in  the  booths 
where  their  products  are  offered  for  sale. 


232  Oriental  Rambles. 

The  merchants,  in  their  flowing  robes  and 
turbans,  have  plenty  of  time  to  smoke  their 
water-pipes,  drink  their  black  coffee  and 
gravely  converse  with  their  neighbors. 

In  separate  booths  are  displayed  the  rich, 
soft  rugs  of  Persia;  the  gold  and  silver  em- 
broidered veils  of  Cairo;  the  metal  wares  of 
Damascus;  the  turquois  and  pearl  jewelry 
of  Arabia  and  the  ostrich  plumes  and  eggs 
of  Nubia.  In  the  booths  of  the  perfumers 
are  the  gilded  vials  of  attar  of  roses  from  the 
rose  gardens  of  Turkey,  fragrant  herbs  from 
Persia,  sandalwood  from  India,  benzoin  from 
Siam,  and  myrrh  and  frankincense  from 
Arabia.  Their  sweet  odors  escape  from  the 
booths  and  perfume  the  mazes  of  the  bazaars. 

At  every  turn  is  a  new  scene  abounding 
with  the  colors  which  please  an  artist.  It 
may  be  a  mosque  banded  with  red  and  white 
sandstone;  a  sculptured  fountain  of  ablutions 
pouring  forth  its  cooling  waters;  a  slender 
white  minaret  against  a  background  of  a  tur- 
quois sky;  or  perhaps,  an  unusually  graceful 
mouchrabiyeh  window  whose  intricate  fret- 
work of  cedar  spindles  clings  to  the  wall  like 
a  swallow's  nest. 

At  the  further  end  of  the  bazaars  is  one 
of  the  mediaeval  gateways  in  the  walls  oi 


In  the  Bazaars.  233 

Cairo.  It  is  ornamented  with  Arabic  inscrip- 
tions carved  in  stone.  In  its  shadowy  re- 
cesses, hung  high  and  safe  above  reach,  are 
old  chains  and  battle-axes,  reminding  us  of 
the  middle  ages  when  Islam  triumphant  was 
beating  in  the  gates  of  Europe  in  the  valley 
of  the  Danube,  and  on  the  sunny  slopes  of 
Spain.  They  remind  us  of  the  brave  days 
of  the  Crusades,  when  Arabs  and  Turks 
crossed  swords  with  Christian  knights  for 
the  possession  of  the  holy  places  of  Palestine. 
Through  that  gate  passed  many  a  cavalcade 
of  the  Chivalry  of  Islam  going  forth  in  the 
panoply  of  war  clad  cap-a-pie  in  good  Da- 
mascus steel,  with  mailed  hands  upon  the 
keen  swords  of  Toledo,  and  mounted  on 
gaily  caparisoned  steeds  of  the  best  blood  of 
Arabia. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

FROM   THE   CITADEL. 

Sultan  Saladin,  who  captured  Jerusalem 
from  the  Crusaders,  built  a  citadel,  and  with- 
in it  a  palace,  on  the  slope  of  the  Mokattam 
hills  overlooking  the  city  of  Cairo.  Moham- 
med All  leveled  the  palace  and  built  on  its 
site  his  mosque  veneered  with  alabaster  slabs 
and  beautified  with  alabaster  pillars.  Its 
great  dome,  and  slender  white  minarets  rise 
above  the  frowning  battlements  and  are  the 
most  conspicuous  feature  of  the  city. 

Mohammed  Ali  was  buried  in  his  mosque 
in  1849  almost  on  the  spot  where  he  com- 
mitted one  of  the  most  terrible  massacres  in 
history.  He  was  a  progressive  but  ruthless 
man;  he  did  great  things  for  himself  and  inci- 
dentally considerable  for  Egypt.  Although 
a  Turk,  and  a  Turkish  viceroy,  his  am- 
bition was  to  make  Egypt  a  great  and  in- 
dependent nation  with  realms  from  the  Red 
Sea  to  the  Atlantic,  and  from  the  Mediter- 
ranean to  the  source  of  the  Nile. 

The  Mamelukes  were  opposed  to  progress. 
They  were  an  influential  military  race.  Away 


234 


Sunset  from  the  Citadel.  235 

back  in  the  thirteenth  century  they  were  a 
corps  of  cavalry  made  up  of  slaves  sold  to 
the  Sultan  of  Egypt  by  an  Asiatic  Kahn. 
They  were  intended  as  a  body  guard  to  over- 
awe rebellious  subjects,  but  in  time  they  came 
to  own  their  owners.  At  various  times  they 
seized  the  government  and  made  their  lead- 
ers sultans,  and  at  all  times  were  turbulent 
and  dictatorial. 

Mohammed  Ali,  tiring  of  their  opposition, 
invited  four  hundred  and  fifty  of  their  leaders 
to  a  conference  in  the  citadel.  When  they  ar- 
rived, the  gates  were  closed  and  all  were  shot 
from  their  horses  except  one  who  spurred  his 
horse  over  the  wall,  falling  what  appears  a 
hundred  feet,  and  fled,  miraculously  escaping 
with  his  life.  At  the  same  time  a  general 
slaughter  of  the  Mamelukes  was  ordered 
throughout  Egypt.  Such  a  carnival  of  mur- 
der followed  as  had  not  been  witnessed  in 
Egypt  since  the  slaughter  of  the  first  born. 
After  that  Mohammed  Ali  developed  his 
plans  unhindered. 

From  the  citadel  can  be  seen  a  panorama 
of  Cairo  which  can  never  be  forgotten.  The 
best  time  to  see  it  is  at  sunset  when  the  pe- 
culiar azure  and  golden  haze  of  Egypt  add 
their  magical  charm  to  the  picture.  Nearby 


Oriental  Rambles. 


are  the  half  ruined  tombs  of  the  Mameluke 
Sultans,  clustered  upon  the  desert  sand  at  the 
foot  of  the  Mokattam  hills.  Stretching  away 
to  the  north  and  south  is  the  City  of  Cairo, 
thickly  dotted  with  the  swelling  domes  and 
tapering  minarets  of  mosques.  Midway  of 
the  valley  flows  the  Nile.  Its  shining  course 
can  be  traced  far  up  and  down,  and  on  its 
surface  can  be  seen  the  lateen  sails  of  the 
dahabeahs.  Over  beyond  the  green  valley 
is  the  brown  waste  of  the  Libyan  desert 
stretching  away  in  sandy  undulations,  into 
the  golden  haze  of  the  distance.  On  the 
edge  of  the  desert,  as  on  a  platform,  stand  the 
three  pyramids  of  Gizeh.  Their  huge  tri- 
angles notch  the  sky  at  the  horizon,  and  their 
sides  seem  turned  to  dull  gold  by  the  sunset. 
Near  the  Pyramids  crouches  the  Sphinx,  gaz- 
ing back  at  us  with  the  mystery  of  the  ages, 
as  it  gazed  back  upon  Moses,  Joseph,  Mary, 
and  the  sacred  child,  and  St.  Mark,  who  es- 
tablished the  Christian  church  among  the 
Egyptians;  as  it  gazed  upon  Rameses,  Pha- 
raoh, Cambyses,  Julius  Caesar,  Cleopatra, 
Saladin  and  Napoleon;  and  as  it  will  gaze 
upon  ages  yet  unborn. 

How  paragraphs  rush  to  the  pen  and  strive 
to  be  free,  but  I  forbear,  for  who  can  compre- 


Sunset  from  the  Citadel.  237 

hend  six  thousand  years  of  the  past?  Who 
can  conceive  of  the  possibilities  of  six  thou- 
sand years  of  the  future? 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

THE    PYRAMIDS THE    PHILOSOPHER    MAKES 

SOME  DISCOVERIES. 

The  drive  to  the  pyramids  is  across  the 
Nile  bridge,  flanked  by  British  lions,  and 
along  a  roadway  embanked  above  the  line  of 
inundation  and  shaded  by  lubbuk  trees.  On 
the  road  we  met  many  donkeys  loaded  with 
vegetables  for  the  city  markets,  and  camels 
almost  enveloped  in  their  load  of  green  grass 
destined  for  fodder  for  "Yankee  Doodle," 
"Bismarck,"  "Bonaparte"  and  the  other  don- 
keys with  high  sounding  names  that  carry  the 
tourists  about  Cairo.  We  met  the  Bedouins 
of  the  desert  with  long  rifles  across  their 
knees,  mounted  on  spirited  horses.  Behind 
them  came  camels  shambling  along  under 
their  loads  of  Bedouin  women,  veiled  and 
heavily  draped  in  black. 

There  were  also  automobiles  and  trolley 
cars,  but  we  ignored  them,  and  mentally 
placarded  them  with  the  signs  worn  by  the 
"supers"  in  the  Japanese  plays  when  they  are 
to  be  considered  invisible.  They  have  no 


Mountain  of  Masonry.  239 

place  in  the  memory  picture  which  I  wish  to 
preserve. 

As  we  drew  nearer  the  Pyramids,  our  re- 
spect for  them  increased.  As  their  bulk  grew 
larger  in  the  perspective  they  grew  in  impres- 
siveness.  When,  at  length,  our  carriage 
halted  before  the  Great  Pyramid,  it  seemed 
a  colossal  stone  pile,  a  mountain  of  masonry. 
It  has  served  as  a  stone  quarry  for  the  build- 
ings of  Cairo  with  little  more  than  scratching 
the  surface.  It  has  been  robbed  of  the  casing 
of  polished  granite  which  was  covered  with 
hieroglyphics.  Its  secret  chambers  have  been 
discovered,  and  the  mummy  of  its  royal  build- 
er dragged  into  the  light  much  against  his 
wish,  but  the  pyramid  remains  to  the  ages  the 
most  stupendous  structure  erected  by  man. 

Its  base  is  more  than  an  eighth  of  a  mile 
square.  Its  apex  is  over  a  twelfth  of  a  mile 
high,  and  its  covers  thirteen  acres.  The  se- 
cret passage  to  the  interior  was  found  on  the 
thirteenth  layer  of  stones,  and  the  average 
height  of  each  block  of  stone  is  nearly  four 
feet.  As  an  evidence  of  the  mathematical 
and  astronomical  knowledge  possessed  by 
their  builders,  it  is  curious  to  note  that  the 
sides  exactly  correspond  with  the  cardinal 
points  of  the  compass,  yet  at  that  early  day  the 


240  Oriental  Rambles. 

compass  had  not  been  invented.  The  diagon- 
al of  the  Great  Pyramid  projected,  forms  the 
diagonal  of  the  second  pyramid  in  the  group. 
The  narrow  secret  passage  is  built  at  the  cor- 
rect angle  to  observe  the  pole-star  from  the 
center  of  the  pyramid  at  a  certain  day  in  the 
year.  The  stone  used  was  brought  from  a 
great  distance  on  the  other  side  of  the  Nile, 
and  was  probably  transported  by  barges  at 
high  water,  or  by  canals  built  for  the  pur- 
pose. All  of  these  facts  are  comforting  to 
know. 

At  present  the  Pyramids  are  owned  by  Be- 
douins who  for  a  fee  will  pull  and  push  the 
tourist  to  the  apex,  and  for  another  fee  will 
push  him  down  again.  Whether  the  charge 
is  so  much  per  person,  or  so  much  per  pound, 
I  did  not  learn,  but  the  Philosopher  discov- 
ered it  was  so  much  per  push,  for  he  un- 
knowingly had  an  extra  pusher,  and  the 
Sheik  reminded  him  of  it  when  he  came  to 
settle. 

These  Bedouins  have  camels  to  rent  for 
the  ride  to  the  Sphinx.  After  the  ride,  which 
consisted  of  a  boost,  a  groan,  a  jounce,  and  a 
get-off,  the  Philosopher  proceeded  to  lead 
away  the  animal,  thinking  he  had  bought  it; 
but  the  Sheik  sent  a  dozen  Bedouins  to  bring 


The  Bedouins  of  the  Sphinx.          241 

it  back  and  collected  a  double  fee  for  wearing 
out  his  camel  without  a  permit. 

The  Sphinx,  which  is  carved  out  of  the 
bed-rock  of  the  plateau,  has  been  subjected 
to  gross  indignities.  The  winds  have  buried 
its  body  with  desert  sands,  which,  however, 
have  been  partially  removed.  Its  face  has 
been  used  as  a  target  for  cannon  practice  with 
the  result  that  it  has  lost  the  greater  part  of 
its  nose,  and  has  acquired  a  hare-lip.  Its 
beard,  for  it  was  originally  the  likeness  of  a 
gentleman  known  as  Amenemhet  III,  has 
been  plucked  and  carted  away  to  the  British 
Museum.  But  in  spite  of  all  these  insults  it 
has  never  spoken  except  once  when  Ralph 
Waldo  Emerson  stood  before  it,  and  several 
persons  distinctly  heard  it  say,  "You're  an- 
other." 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

THE  DERVISHES. 

Once  a  week  the  "Howling  Dervishes" 
and  the  "Whirling  Dervishes"  hold  services 
in  their  respective  mosques.  "The  public  are 
cordially  invited  to  attend."  If  the  drago- 
man has  provided  a  carriage  with  fast  horses 
it  is  possible  to  see  both  in  one  afternoon. 
These  dervishes  are  a  Mohammedan  sect 
sometimes  called  fanatics. 

We  went  first  to  the  "Howling  Dervishes," 
and  found  a  throng  of  spectators,  native  and 
foreign,  grouped  around  a  court  in  the  center 
of  which  was  an  elevated  platform  under  a 
grape  trellis.  On  the  platform  stood  a  cir- 
cle of  dervishes  repeating  in  unison  with 
much  explosive  vehemence,  "La  Allah  ill' 
Allah."  Every  time  they  said  "Allah"  they 
violently  bowed  their  heads.  The  tempo  set 
by  the  leader  gradually  increased  and  the 
bobbing  of  their  heads  became  more  ener- 
getic until  their  entire  bodies  swung  back- 
ward and  forward  with  wonderful  rapidity. 
There  was  one  who  wore  no  turban  and  his 
long  hair  fairly  snapped  like  a  whip  lash,  as 

2« 


The  Howling  Dervishes.  243 

it  flew  back  and  forth  with  his  violent  exer- 
cise. It  seemed  that  they  would  never  tire,  or 
that  they  would  fall  from  exhaustion.  After 
some  minutes,  the  time  gradually  retarded, 
and  their  movements  became  less  violent  until 
they  were  silent  and  still  again.  Again  they 
walked  around  in  a  circle  and  prayed,  then 
resumed  their  cries  of  "Allah"  and  began  an- 
other movement  in  which  deep  and  rapid 
breathing  seemed  to  be  the  object. 

One  man  especially  interested  me.  It  was 
he  of  the  flying  hair.  He  was  perhaps  twen- 
ty-eight years  of  age.  He  had  a  pallid,  deli- 
cate complexion,  sparse,  curling,  brown 
beard,  and  abundant  wavy  brown  hair  falling 
about  his  shoulders.  His  large  brown  eyes 
seemed  to  have  no  sin.  The  purity  of  his 
face,  his  devotional  intensity  and  his  spiritual 
expression  would  put  any  question  of  his  sin- 
cerity to  shame.  He  was  a  monk,  an  ascetic 
from  Palestine. 

By  a  fast  ride  we  were  able  to  see  the  danc- 
ing dervishes.  Their  mosque  at  first  glance 
had  an  irreverent  appearance.  The  center  of 
the  building  was  railed  off,  and  inside  the 
railing  were  several  dervishes,  each  spinning 
like  a  top  by  himself.  No  one  interfered  with 
his  neighbor.  With  closed  eyes  and  folded 


244  Oriental  Rambles. 

arms,  their  leaded  skirts  standing  out  like 
round  tables,  they  whirled  until  it  would 
seem  they  must  drop. 

These  enthusiasts  endeavor  to  induce  a 
condition  of  ecstacy,  hallucination,  hypnot- 
ism, or  trance,  during  which  they  see  visions, 
and  in  which  their  souls  are  freed  from  the 
trammels  of  the  body,  and  can  soar  to  the 
realms  of  the  blessed,  peep  into  the  courts  of 
paradise,  and  commune  with  God.  The 
"Howling  Dervishes"  adopt  the  method  of 
violent  movements  of  the  head  and  deep 
breathing,  the  effect  of  which  is  to  disturb  the 
circulation  of  blood  in  the  brain,  and  intoxi- 
cate with  an  excess  of  oxygen.  The  "Whirl- 
ing Dervishes"  adopt  the  method  of  produc- 
ing the  desired  condition  of  mind  by  vertigo, 
induced  by  rapid  and  long  whirling.  The 
Hindoo  fakirs  produce  the  same  condition  by 
mere  concentration  of  mind. 

This  condition  of  perfect  subjugation  of 
self  during  which  the  spirit,  or  soul,  or  astral 
body  rises  triumphant  over  the  earthly  body, 
to  see  things  unseen  by  ordinary  mortals,  is  a 
state  desired  by  enthusiasts  of  all  religions, 
and  accomplished  in  various  ways.  It  is  the 
condition  that  makes  the  acceptance  of  mar- 
tyrdom a  trivial  thing.  Christian  ascetics 


The  World  of  the  Invisible.          245 

have  sought  the    same  condition    by  fasting, 
prayer  and  meditation. 

The  Persian  astronomer-poet,  Omar  Khay- 
yam, expressed  the  purpose  and  his  conclu- 
sion when  he  wrote,  in  "The  Rubaiyat" 

"  I  sent  my  soul  through  the  invisible, 
Some  letter  of  that  after-life  to  spell  ; — 

And  by-and-by  my  soul  returned  to  me, 

And  answered,  '  I  myself  am  Heaven  and  hell.' 

Heav'n  but  the  vision  of  fulfilled  desire, 

And  Hell  the  Shadow  of  a  Soul  on  fire." 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

MEMPHIS HELIOPOLIS THE    WISDOM    OF 

THE  EGYPTIANS. 

The  Prophet  Jeremiah  wrote,  "Noph, 
(Memphis)  shall  be  waste  and  desolate  with- 
out an  inhabitant."  His  prophecy  has  liter- 
ally been  fulfilled.  There  is  nothing  now  to 
mark  the  ancient  metropolis  of  lower  Egypt 
but  the  fallen  statues  of  Rameses  II,  the  Pha- 
raoh of  the  oppression,  which  stood  before 
the  Temple  of  Ptah. 

That  temple  was  the  most  important  in 
Egypt,  but  its  stones  have  been  removed  for 
the  building  of  Cairo,  and  nothing  now  re- 
mains but  the  gigantic  granite  statue,  forty- 
two  feet  high,  of  Rameses  II  and  the  mum- 
mies in  the  tombs  of  Sakkara  on  the  edge  of 
the  desert.  In  the  worship  and  ceremonials 
of  the  ancient  Egyptians,  bulls  were  employ- 
ed. They  were  considered  sacred  to  Apis, 
and  when  they  died  they  were  mummified  and 
placed  in  the  subterranean  tombs  connected 
with  the  temples  in  granite  sarcophagi,  some 
of  which  weight  sixty-five  tons. 

It  is  an  interesting  problem  how  such  enor- 


248 


The  Ingenuity  of  the  Ancients.       247 

mous  weights  as  these  sarcophagi,  the  obe- 
lisks, and  the  mammoth  statues,  were  trans- 
ported hundreds  of  miles  from  their  quarries 
in  upper  Egypt.  The  statue  of  Rameses  in 
the  Rameseum  in  Thebes,  carved  from  a  sin- 
gle block  of  red  granite,  stood  fifty-five  feet 
and  is  estimated  to  have  weighed  eight  hun- 
dred and  eighty-seven  tons.  The  quarrying 
and  cutting  of  these  blocks  were  done  with 
tools  of  tempered  copper,  some  of  which 
have  been  found;  but  the  secret  of  tempering 
copper  is  one  of  the  lost  arts,  although  known 
to  the  North  American  Aborigines. 

In  the  northern  suburbs  of  Cairo  is  the 
site  of  the  ancient  City  of  Heliopolis,  the 
sacred  City  of  the  Temple  of  the  Sun, — the 
"On"  of  the  forty-first  chapter  of  Genesis. 
This  was  a  center  of  learning  in  ancient 
Egypt — a  sort  of  university  town.  Moses 
was  a  student  there,  and  became  learned  in  all 
the  wisdom  of  the  Egyptians.  Herodotus, 
Plato  and  Strabo,  journeyed  there  to  study 
philosophy  and  history.  Dionysius,  an  Egyp- 
tian astronomer  at  Heliopolis,  recorded  a 
darkness  or  eclipse  on  the  date  of  the  cruci- 
fixion on  Calvary.  Nothing  now  remains  of 
that  great  city  but  an  obelisk.  Once  there 
were  many,  but  they  have  wandered  far  from 


248  Oriental  Rambles. 

the  temple  of  learning  where  they  were 
placed  five  thousand  years  ago.  One  stands 
in  Alexandria  where  it  was  placed  before  the 
palace  of  Cleopatra,  one  has  journeyed  to 
Central  Park,  New  York,  and  another  to 
London. 

We  spent  a  day  wandering  through  the 
corridors  of  the  Gizeh  museum,  where  are 
gathered  the  antiquities  of  Egypt  in  bewilder- 
ing profusion.  There  we  saw  mummies  of 
Rameses  II,  the  conqueror  of  the  East,  the 
builder  of  temples,  the  greatest  king  that  ever 
ruled  in  Egypt.  He  was  the  Pharaoh  who 
"hardened  his  heart"  against  the  Israelites. 
His  features  which  are  well  preserved  are  dig- 
nified and  commanding.  The  aquiline  nose 
and  broad  forhead  indicate  a  man  of  great 
mental  force  and  determination. 

Here  also  is  the  mummy  of  Sethi  II,  the 
Pharaoh  of  the  Exodus,  the  contemporary  of 
Moses.  How  surprised  he  would  be  to  learn 
that  his  kingdom  and  his  people  have  passed 
away,  and  the  spokesman  of  that  band  of 
Jewish  slaves  became  the  spokesman  of  God 
to  a  large  part  of  the  world;  and  that  the 
Jews  are  still  a  distinct  people  and  are  re- 
markably prosperous. 

Old  as  Pharaoh  is,  he  seems  modern  when 


Some  Old  Jokes.  249 

compared  to  the  wooden  statue  standing 
guard  nearby.  This  statue  is  six  thousand 
years  old,  two  thousand  years  older  than  Pha- 
raoh and  Moses,  and  the  wood  is  still  well 
preserved.  He  is  not  at  all  Egyptian  in  ap- 
pearance. It  might  be  the  likeness  of  a  mod- 
ern bonvivant  or  clubman.  He  has  a  jolly 
round  face  with  a  humorous,  half-repressed 
smile.  The  Philosopher  listening  back  six 
thousand  years  said  he  distinctly  heard  him 
laugh  and  remark,  "That  mother-in-law  joke 
is  a  good  one,  but  here  is  a  conundrum  given 
me  by  old  Cheops  who  has  that  pyramid  job 
down  Memphis  way,  'Why  does  a  hen  cross 
the  road?'" 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

HOMEWARD    BOUND. 

There  comes  a  time  in  the  course  of  travel 
when  one  has  seen  enough;  when  the  sight  of 
a  temple,  or  a  museum,  or  an  art  gallery 
brings  no  thrill  of  joy ;  when  the  brain  is  tired 
and  overcrowded  with  scenes  and  incidents 
too  rapidly  accumulated  to  be  properly  filed 
away  in  the  index  of  memory.  Then  is  the 
time  to  rest, — then  the  time  to  remember  the 
motto  of  the  monkeys  of  Nikko,  "See  not  too 
much,  hear  not  too  much,  speak  not  too 
much." 

Once  more  we  went  to  the  citadel  to  see  the 
sun  set  across  the  valley  of  the  Nile.  Once 
more,  and  this  time  by  moonlight,  we  con- 
templated the  Pyramids,  and  watched  their 
triangular  shadows  lengthen  on  the  desert. 
Once  more  we  bent  our  inquiring  gaze  upon 
the  sad,  mysterious  face  of  the  Sphinx  be- 
fore we  could  say  farewell  to  Egypt,  and 
farewell  to  the  purple  Orient  and  its  strange 
people  in  the  multi-colored  clothing ;  for  when 
we  should  reach  Europe  we  would  again  be 
among  the  people  of  our  occidental  civiliza- 
tion. 


Home,  Sweet  Home.  251 

As  we  completed  the  circuit  of  the  world 
by  sailing  up  New  York  harbor,  Phil,  the 
Philosopher  from  Philadelphia,  gazed  long 
and  lovingly  upon  the  "Gateway  to  Ameri- 
ca," and  remarked,  "After  all,  the  best  thing 
we  have  seen  is  the  Statue  of  Liberty." 


THE  END. 


EXTRACTS 

FROM 

HINDU  LAL 

A  New  Book  in  Preparation 
BY 

DR.  G.  W.   CALDWELL 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  BROTHERHOOD  OF  THE  VOLCANO. 

We  were  well  satisfied,  the  Professor  and 
I,  with  our  botanizing  tour.  With  our  lit- 
tle caravan  of  Gourka  hill  men  and  native 
ponies  we  had  wandered  over  the  ranges  of 
the  Himalayas  studying  and  classifying  the 
strange  Flora  with  which  the  region  abounds, 
and  had  finally  arrived  near  the  boundaries 
of  the  "Forbidden  Land." 

We  were  passing,  that  morning,  up  a  wild 
ravine  where  jungle  grass  and  stunted  shrubs 
grew  thick,  and  lichens  clung  to  the  rocky 
banks.  Before  us  towered  the  mighty  moun- 

157 


158  The  High  Himalayas. 

tain — Jomo  Kang  Kar — "Our  Lady  of 
Snows,"  where  the  Gods  and  Goddesses  of 
the  Hindu  mythology  sit  on  their  crystal 
thrones  secure  from  mortal  curiosity.  Be- 
tween us  and  the  peak,  which  has  never  been 
scaled  by  man,  lay  snow  fields  broad  and 
deep,  sending  down  their  glaciers  to  glitter 
pale  blue  in  the  sunlight,  and  melt  into  tor- 
rents which  falling  in  feathery  foam  thou- 
sands of  feet  over  the  cliffs  formed  the  river 
which  rushed  past  us  to  join  with  the  sacred 
Ganges  on  the  plains  of  Hindustan. 

In  our  travels  we  had  learned  from  Ram 
Zan,  our  interpreter  and  guide,  many  secrets 
of  the  healing  art  unknown  to  the  world  out- 
side of  the  hills  of  India,  and,  as  said  before, 
we  were  well  satisfied  with  the  benefit  that 
the  sick  and  suffering  would  receive  when  we 
should  return  to  civilization  and  make  them 
known. 

Ram  Zan  was  relating  the  strange  stories 
of  the  Mahatmas,  Yogis,  Magi  and  Monks 
that  have  their  habitations  far  in  the  wilds  of 
these  almost  inaccessible  mountains. 

"This  path,"  he  said,  "is  worn  by  the  pil- 
grims who  travel  to  the  Monastery  of  the 
Volcano  to  be  healed  by  Swaami,  the  Holy 
Man,  whose  fame  is  as  broad  as  India. 


The  Rescue  of  Hindu  Lai.          159 

At  that  moment  a  cry  was  heard — the  cry 
for  aid  of  a  man  in  terror.  We  seized  our 
rifles  and  bidding  our  bearers  follow,  hurried 
up  the  ravine,  answering  the  call.  We  had 
not  traveled  far  when  we  saw  crouching  on  a 
rock  at  the  side  of  the  ravine  a  tiger  and  a 
tigress.  We  three  fired  at  the  same  moment, 
•and  the  beasts  sprang  from  the  rock.  One 
remained  where  he  fell,  but  the  tigress  with 
a  series  of  bounds  crashed  through  the  bushes 
and  disappeared. 

"Here  is  the  pretty  pussy,"  said  the  Pro- 
fessor, when  we  reached  our  trophy.  "We 
must  now  learn  whether  the  proprietor  of 
the  cry  is  inside,"  but  we  were  saved  the  trou- 
ble, for  only  a  few  feet  away  we  found  the 
man  among  the  rocks  where  he  had  fallen. 
He  wore  the  robes  of  a  priest  of  the  higher 
order.  He  was  badly  injured,  having  fallen 
from  the  rocks  and  dislocated  a  hip  and  re- 
ceived a  severe  scalp  wound  from  which  the 
blood  was  still  flowing. 

We  stripped  his  blood-stained  turban  into 
bandages,  and  by  means  of  compresses  and 
the  icy  waters,  soon  had  the  hemorrhage 
stopped  and  a  neat  bandage  applied.  Then 
we  reduced  the  dislocation  of  the  hip.  The 
pain  caused  by  such  an  injury  and  the  manipu- 


160  The  Pain  Plant. 

lation  of  the  bones  is  such  as  to  bring  groans 
of  agony  from  the  bravest  man,  but  the 
priest  calmly  chewed  some  leaves  which  he 
picked  out  of  the  bag  suspended  from  his 
shoulder.  He  showed  no  evidence  of  suffer- 
ing. 

Ram  Zan  noticed  this  arid  called  our  atten- 
tion to  the  leaf  which  he  recognized  at  once 
as  a  common  umbelliferae.  The  priest  ad- 
mitted it  was  the  "Pain  Plant"  of  which  we 
heard  in  Nepaul.  At  a  later  time  we  had  an 
opportunity  of  putting  this  plant  to  the  test 
in  our  own  party,  and  found  to  our  delight 
that  it  had  the  power  of  controlling  pain 
without  affecting  consciousness. 

In  a  short  time  the  priest  was  strangely 
refreshed  and  strengthened.  Through  our 
interpreter  he  said: 

"I  thank  you,  Sahibs.  You  have  saved 
my  life;  I  am  your  servant,  Hindu  Lai,  of 
the  Monastery  of  the  Volcano.  As  you  see 
I  am  unable  to  walk,  and  a  wounded  man  is 
an  easy  prey  for  wild  beasts.  I  ask  you  to 
take  me  to  the  Monastery  to-night." 

"But  the  Monastery,"  we  protested,  "is 
two  days'  travel  over  the  mountain." 

"We  will  go  by  the  secret  passage,"  he  re- 
plied. "In  four  hours  we  will  reach  the 


A  Substitute  for  Food.  161 

Monastery.  Swaami  will  not  forget  your 
service,  and  if  you  seek  knowledge,  as  I  be- 
lieve you  do,  since  you  were  quick  to  detect 
the  Pain  Plant,  you  shall  learn  of  the  master 
what  no  man  of  your  race  has  ever  learned 
before." 

It  was  plain  we  could  not  leave  him  there 
alone,  so  we  placed  him  on  a  pony  and  proceed- 
ed up  the  path  perhaps  a  half  mile,  when  at  his 
direction  we  turned  into  a  defile.  As  we  pro- 
ceeded the  defile  narrowed  to  a  cleft  in  the 
mountain,  then  abruptly  terminated.  Appar- 
ently we  were  in  a  pocket,  and  the  only  escape 
was  to  return,  but  Hindu  Lai  bade  us  pro- 
ceed to  the  extreme  end  of  the  cleft  where  the 
vines  climbed  thickly  up  the  rocks.  The 
vines  proved  to  be  only  a  curtain  hiding  the 
entrance  to  a  cave.  Inside  of  the  cave  were 
two  hideous  idols,  with  eyes  of  blood-red 
carnelian,  in  the  posture  of  forbidding  en- 
trance. 

Our  Gourka  bearers  were  plainly  fright- 
ened. Only  after  long  persuasion  was  the 
priest  able  to  overcome  their  superstition. 
Apparently  the  figures  served  well  the  pur- 
pose for  which  they  were  designed.  Still 
they  reasoned  that  if  it  was  safe  to  enter  the 
cave  at  all,  it  had  better  be  done  with  a  full 


1 62          Through  the  Secret  Passage. 

stomach,  and  they  insisted  on  a  halt  for  food. 

At  this  the  priest  demurred.  He  wished 
to  proceed  at  once  and  as  rapidly  as  possible, 
so  again  he  searched  his  bag  and  brought 
forth  another  plant  with  a  thick,  glossy  green 
leaf,  and  calling  to  the  men  in  the  native 
tongue,  gave  each  a  leaf  and  bade  them  eat. 
The  faith  of  the  Gourkas  in  the  priest  was 
remarkable.  Each  did  as  he  was  bidden. 
We  also  received  a  portion  and  ate  it.  It 
was  strangely  satisfying  and  seemed  to  ban- 
ish fatigue  and  hunger  like  the  cocoa  leaves 
which  are  chewed  by  the  Indians  of  Peru. 

The  Gourkas  were  now  willing  to  proceed. 
We  lighted  torches  which  were  found  behind 
the  idols  and  entered  the  cave.  We  passed 
along  the  lofty  cavern  between  rows  of  idols 
that  glared  at  us  with  blood-red  eyes.  Our 
voices  echoed  and  re-echoed  until  they  died 
away  in  a  faint  call  from  the  recesses  of  dis- 
tant chambers. 

At  length  we  emerged  from  the  cavern  into 
a  circular  valley  surrounded  by  vertical  cliffs, 
inaccessible  except  at  one  point  where  a  path- 
way zigzagged  up  to  the  crest. 

"We  have  come  through  the  secret  pas« 
sage,"  said  Hindu  Lai.  "This  valley  is  the 
crater  of  an  extinct  volcano.  The  cloud  of 


In  the  Ancient  Crater.  163 

steam  arising  yonder  is  from  the  natural 
hot  springs,  and  nearby  is  the  temple  with 
the  two  colossal  stone  elephants  before  it." 

As  we  passed  down  an  avenue  we  saw 
many  strange  people  camped  in  the  shade  of 
the  banyan  trees.  They  were  pilgrims  from 
all  parts  of  India,  who  had  come  to  be  cured 
at  the  shrine  of  Swaami,  the  Holy  Man  of 
the  Himalayas. 

We  halted  at  the  gateway  of  the  Monas- 
tery. Two  attendants  prostrated  themselves 
before  the  priest,  then  tenderly  lifted  him 
from  the  horse  and  carried  him  in.  We  fol- 
lowed through  an  outer  court  brilliant  with 
scarlet  orchids, — through  stone  corridors, 
the  walls  of  which  were  covered  with  astro- 
logical and  mystical  signs, — across  a  curious 
inner  court,  in  the  pavement  of  which  a 
brazen  sun  was  inset,  surrounded  by  the 
elliptic,  the  signs  of  the  Zodiac,  and  other 
emblems  which  we  did  not  understand.  A 
door  mysteriously  opened  and  closed  for  us. 
Our  feet  sank  into  the  deep,  rich  pile  of 
oriental  rugs.  The  air  became  heavy  with 
the  odors  of  burning  incense.  A  moment 
later  we  stood  in  the  presence  of  Swaami,  the 
Holy  Man. 

He  sat  on  a  cushion,  with  his  legs  folded 


164  Swaami,  the  Holy  Alan. 

as  a  woman  folds  her  arms.  He  was  thin  to 
emaciation  and  for  clothes  he  wore  only  a 
loin  cloth  of  pure  white  silk.  Unlike  other 
holy  men  of  India  we  had  seen,  he  was  clean 
— scrupulously  clean.  His  face  was  strong, 
and  kind,  and  in  his  eye  was  wisdom  and  con- 
scious power. 

Behind  the  Holy  Man  stood  an  idol  of 
terrifying  aspect.  Its  eyes  were  blazing 
rubies  and  an  enormous  diamond  scintillated 
on  its  forehead.  The  interior  of  its  wide- 
open  mouth  was  blood-red,  and  for  teeth  it 
had  rows  of  jagged  quartz  crystals.  Over 
its  shoulder  was  a  cape  of  human  vertebrae, 
with  a  fringe  of  finger  bones,  and  with  a  skull 
as  a  central  pendant. 

Hindu  Lai  narrated  the  story  of  his  mis- 
fortune and  our  timely  rescue.  At  its  end 
Swaami  smiled  upon  us,  and  placing  his  left 
hand  over  his  heart,  touched  his  lips  and  fore- 
head with  the  fingers  of  his  right  hand,  which 
we  learned  was  the  secret  sign  of  the  Broth- 
erhood. 

Attendants  removed  the  bandages  from 
Hindu  Lai,  and  after  washing  the  wound,  ap- 
plied some  aromatic  balm.  A  tiny  glass  of 
red  liquid  was  given  him  and  in  a  few  min- 
utes his  weakness  disappeared. 


Strange  Power  of  Plants.  165 

"By  your  kindness  to  me,"  he  said,  uy°u 
have  won  what  no  man  of  your  race  could 
buy.  It  is  the  wish  of  The  Master  that  you 
be  shown  the  mysteries  of  healing,  which 
throughout  all  ages  have  been  reserved  for 
the  elect  of  the  Brotherhood." 

A  pilgrim  was  brought  in,  leaning  heavily 
upon  the  arm  of  an  attendant.  His  breath 
came  fast  and  short  and  from  his  chest  issued 
wheezing  sounds.  "Save  me,  oh  Master, 
else  I  die.  A  demon  is  in  my  chest  and  he 
grapples  at  my  throat.  Drive  him  out,  oh 
Master,"  he  panted  as  he  prostrated  himself 
before  the  Holy  Man. 

"Behold  the  herb  the  Master  will  give 
him,"  whispered  Hindu  Lai.  "Note  the 
round  leaves  and  the  purple  veins.  To  it  is 
given  dominion  over  the  Fiend  of  the 
Air.  With  it  will  the  Master  exorcise  the 
demon  and  he  shall  trouble  him  no  more. 
One  leaf  shall  he  eat  at  the  rising  of  the  sun 
and  the  going  down  thereof  for  the  space  of 
three  moon  cycles  and  he  shall  trouble  the 


man  no  more." 


The  pilgrim  took  from  his  finger  a  jeweled 
ring  and  placing  it  in  the  palm  of  the  idol, 
passed  out. 

Then  came  a  man  from  Thibet,  being  car- 
ried in  a  chair.  "Oh  Master,"  he  said,  "the 


1 66  The  Spirit  Plant. 

wrath  of  the  Gods  rest  heavily  upon  me.  I 
can  neither  lift  my  right  foot  or  my  right 
hand." 

"By  this,"  said  Hindu  Lai,  "will  the  spell 
be  broken.  By  this  will  be  he  healed.  It  is 
the  Spirit  Plant.  Place  your  fingers  upon  it." 
We  did  so  and  received  a  sensation  similar  to 
an  electric  shock. 

"He  who  gathers  it,"  continued  the  priest, 
"must  needs  be  cautious.  It  was  that  which 
caused  my  fall  from  the  cliff  this  morning 
when  you  rescued  me.  At  the  magic  hour 
must  it  be  gathered,  for  only  then  is  the  spirit 
upon  it." 

He  gave  some  leaves  to  the  paralytic,  and 
when  he  had  eaten  he  clapped  his  hands  for 
joy,  and  descending  from  his  chair,  took  a 
heavy  gold  chain  from  his  neck  and  placing 
it  in  the  palm  of  the  idol,  went  out  praising, 
strange  as  it  may  seem,  not  the  Holy  Man  or 
the  remedy,  but  the  idol. 

"These  poor  people,"  said  the  Master, 
"must  have  a  fetish.  With  their  eyes  must 
they  see  a  physical  object,  for  their  minds 
are  not  capable  of  comprehending  the  invisi- 
ble. Therefore  do  they  bring  their  jewels 
and  offer  them  to  the  idol,  and  it  is  well,  for 
therewith  may  the  brothers  buy  rice,  and  the 


Before  Zarlon  the  All-Seeing.         167 

wise  men  spend  their  days  in  study  of  the  mys- 
teries of  Nature  for  the  benefit  of  the  people." 
"In  this,"  he  continued,  showing  us  a  red 
liquid,  "are  the  elements  of  life,  and  it  is 
capable  of  saving  those  suffering  from  dis- 
ease as  bread  saves  those  starving  for  food. 
With  these  elements  Nature  makes  her  re- 
pairs. My  sons,  in  these  mountains  human 
life  on  this  planet  began,  and  in  these  se- 
cluded monasteries  are  secrets  of  Nature  kept 
until  the  world  shall  be  ready  to  receive  them. 
They  will  be  revealed  to  you  when  you  shall 
become  one  of  us,  and  shall  have  taken  the 
oath  of  the  Brotherhood  before  the  blood-red 
eye  of  Zarlon  the  All-Seeing.  The  ordeal  is 
prepared.  The  brothers  await  you  in  the 
Cavern  of  the  Eternal  Fire." 


A     000  056  335     3 


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